


Last Song

by AnotherGallavichLove



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: AU, Actor!Mickey, Angst, Break Up, Country Singer!Ian, Crying, Fake Dating, Fake Relationship, Flashbacks, Kissing, M/M, Riding, Shameless Big Bang
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-05
Updated: 2016-06-05
Packaged: 2018-07-12 10:20:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 50,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7098772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnotherGallavichLove/pseuds/AnotherGallavichLove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Singer Ian Gallagher and actor Mickey Milkovich’s break up becomes a fuck of a lot more complicated when as far as the public eye is concerned, they have to be more in love than ever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Last Song

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, here we go. I'm not nervous to finally be posting this. Not at all. I'm not gonna bother you with a bunch of notes up here, but I'll put the names of the songs that I've used as Ian's at the end in case you want to go listen, because his lyrics are quite a big part of this story. The one song that I will give you now, though is ['Last Song'](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7_SkWh1JLIk) which you really should listen to before or during this story because it kind of inspired the whole thing. Those lyrics were also used for the beautiful art which you can find [here!](http://mckmlkvch.tumblr.com/post/145450324080)

“This is it” Mickey’s voice was nothing but a breath, the heavy words falling out from in between his lips as he struggled not to let the pain push him to the floor. Blue eyes were on green as they both felt it. That pain, that finality. No, this wasn’t a bump in the road, this wasn’t just a fight. Yes, this was in fact - it.

 

A sound between a shaky sigh and hiccup escaped his lips as his eyes drifted down to the few feet of black hardwood floors separating him from the other man.

 

Ian’s teeth dug into his tongue as he did his best to blink away most of the tears. His eyes were focused on the top of Mickey’s head for a second before he dipped his, his gaze drifting down onto the floor as well. He swallowed, trying desperately to get rid of the huge lump in his throat, all the while knowing that it would do no good. In this moment, nothing would be able to take the pain away.

 

His hands were behind him, curling around the white marble of the kitchen counter, his grip so tight that the color of his knuckles were starting to match.

 

For a long time, they had both known that this day was starting to approach the horizon. They also knew that there was really nothing that they could possibly do about it. This needed to happen. The two of them couldn’t go on, racing each other, hurting each other, each of them always running off and doing their own thing without telling the other.

 

Despite the consuming love that they carried around in their relationship, it wasn’t a good one. Not anymore.

 

Five years was a long fucking time, and for three - maybe even four - of them, things had, in fact, been good. Healthy. Ian and Mickey had both been so fucking in love with each other, starry eyes, bursting hearts, all of it.

 

Fuck knows how they lost it, but they did.

 

A tear trailed down Mickey’s cheek, and he shut his eyes, mentally begging them to wait a second. He didn’t want to stand here sobbing his fucking heart out because things were over, although, it didn’t seem as if he had much of a choice. The base of his stomach was in a complete mess of tangles, knots and knifes, destroying his heart, his insides. Everything.

 

Actual, physical pain was taking over his body and he didn’t know how to stop it.

 

Mickey’s hands were placed onto the kitchen island behind him, his tattooed knuckles turning just as white as Ian’s as he added pressure, his nails digging into the rough underside of the white marble. More tears escaped his eyes, trailing down his cheek.

 

“I love you. So much” At Ian’s words, Mickey looked up, their eyes sticking to each other’s. Several tear streaks painted the pale skin of Ian’s cheek, his eyes red, much like his own, he’d guess. They knew that they had to do this, they had to break up. There was just no other way out. However, that didn’t mean that they couldn’t feel the puma clawing at their insides, completely tearing them apart, minds flashing back to every single good and every single bad thing that they had ever gone through together.

 

They loved each other, of course they did. That wasn’t the issue. Mickey swallowed, his head dipping again as he felt too weak to keep the eye contact going. That was too painful. His tongue slipped in between his teeth, and he bit down on it, hoping that the slight sting of pain would help to keep his tears somewhat at bay for now.

 

“But we don’t make each other happy, Mickey” Ian’s voice wasn’t much more than a sigh, his tone wavering, cracking, showing all of the signs of being just as heartbroken as Mickey was himself. “We haven’t for a long time”

 

Mickey still wasn’t strong enough to meet his gaze, and he had a feeling that Ian’s was on the floor again anyway. His hands clutched the countertop even tighter, clenching his eyes shut in pain for a second. He knew what Ian meant, of course he did.

 

In the past six months - fuck, the past year, really - there had been movies to film and interviews to do and tours to go on, and in the end… they didn’t have much time left for each other. They weren’t that close anymore. Sure, they went to bed together, maybe they fucked and then they would fall asleep with Mickey wrapped up in Ian’s arms. But that wasn’t the connection they were lacking. They were lacking the other parts.

 

When Mickey would come over to Ian’s house pissed off as fuck, Ian would wave him off and say that he could tell him about it later. When Ian came over to Mickey’s penthouse, craving affection and kisses, Mickey would give him a quick kiss and say that he was late for a meeting.

 

And the lack of time for each other wasn’t their fault, they both knew that. But that didn’t mean that those waves didn’t hurt, they did. Ian and Mickey both needed each other and it was painful that they couldn’t possibly find the time for the other.

 

That was far from the only reason why they needed this split, though. They needed to break up because the pressure was completely, utterly and unimaginably tough to deal with. Even though they weren’t in the same business at all, people had rather quickly started to relate them to each other. For five whole years, they had been Ian and Mickey. People would rarely say one name without the other following, and if a fan saw one of them they would immediately ask where the other man was.

 

It was a lot of pressure to be happy, to stay together. To keep being Ian and Mickey no matter what else was going on in their lives. It’s what people expected of them.

 

A lot of shit had gone down in between them, especially within the last year. There had been cheating and lying, deceiving, everything. In the end, Mickey realized that it wasn’t just one thing that had gotten them to this point in their relationship, it was all of it. Every single little white lie or bump in the road had driven them closer and closer to the edge. And not the good kind of edge.

 

Because of the pressure, they took each other for granted, and by now they had both realized that fact. Breaking up hadn’t even crossed their minds before now, and that was probably because they found it impossible to imagine their lives without the other in it. That wasn’t even a romantic thing, it was just the truth, and it wasn’t healthy.

 

If they had made sure to create more time for each other in their busy schedules, no matter how difficult, well then maybe they wouldn’t have gotten to this point at all. Maybe Ian wouldn’t have cheated on Mickey, maybe Mickey wouldn’t have cheated on Ian. Maybe they would never have driven each other this crazy, or taken each other for granted, and maybe - just maybe - they would be upstairs in Ian’s bed, kissing. Laughing, whispering declarations of love in each other’s ears.

 

Maybe they wouldn’t have ended up… here.

 

“So what if there was someone out there who could?” Ian continued after several minutes, and Mickey lifted his head, only to see the green eyes looking just as broken as his voice sounded.

 

This was so fucking difficult, all of it. Somehow they had gotten themselves into one of those cheesy chick flick situations where they couldn’t live with or without each other. Mickey dug his teeth into the inside of his bottom lip so hard that he could almost taste the blood sippering out. His mind was spinning round and round like a fucking race car, yet somehow his entire world seemed to be frozen solid, along with his body and soul.

 

“You think so?” Mickey finally managed to crack out, his voice so weak that he didn’t even recognize it himself. Ian’s eyes blinked slowly two times, the tears coating his lashes as he let go of his kitchen counter, his hands and arms falling limply at his sides.

 

“I have to”

 

With those words, Mickey knew fucking exactly what Ian meant. He had to. Despite the fact that neither of them could ever imagine having somebody else as their boyfriend right now, they had to believe that they would and that they could at some point. That they would be able to be happy again. Without each other. This couldn’t just be it. They were in their fucking twenties for fucks sakes, there had to be something more. Something bigger.

 

Only, Mickey nor Ian knew exactly what something bigger would be. Of course, they would both want something that they didn’t have in this relationship anymore, and that was happiness. But overlooking the fact that they weren’t happy together, they did love each other. More than anything, and that was something that couldn’t exactly be passed by.

 

But love, in this case, just wasn’t enough. They didn’t have faith, they didn’t have trust, not anymore. And love without those extension kits was just… nothing.

 

Their eyes were connected, both of them trying to figure out where to go next. Ian’s teeth closed down onto his tongue, nibbling, maybe because he was attempting to distract himself. Both pairs of orbs were completely cried out, cheeks stained with tear-streaks, lips chapped and dry, hearts bullying painfully hard against their ribcages.

 

Mickey opened his mouth, just about to say something, but right then, they were both startled by his phone buzzing loudly on the counter-top right next to him. Mickey’s eyes fell closed for a second, cursing whoever was calling him for picking right this second to do so.

 

“Get it” Ian spoke, and Mickey sighed, letting go of the white marble to pick the device up and look at the screen.

 

“Fuck” He cursed quietly, running a hand over his flushed face before clicking the phone locked again and pushing it down into his back pocket, shifting his eyes over to Ian. “That was Ang, I’m late for a fitting”

 

“Alright” Ian nodded, dipping his head down, focusing his gaze onto the floor again. They both forced the tears and heartache back for now, silently deciding that they would have to deal with it all later.

 

“I’ll um…” Mickey swallowed soon, pushing himself off of the counter, walking a couple of small steps towards the tall, round, open doorway of the kitchen. “I’ll come pick my stuff up whenever I got time. Or send someone, I don’t know…”

 

“Yeah” Ian sighed, still not able to gather quite enough strength to meet those beautiful blue eyes. He used to be able to drown in the ocean that was Mickey’s orbs, that’s how beautiful they were. That’s how beautiful Mickey was. He forced himself to ignore the twisting knife deep inside of his gut to the point where he could at least speak. “Yeah, Mick. Whatever works for you” He cleared his throat after the words, and then he heard Mickey sigh, along with his shoes moving over the floor, walking towards the door.

 

Mickey’s legs felt a thousand times heavier than they ever had in the past, his head was completely throbbing, unable to understand just how they had both managed to get themselves to this point.

 

Ian’s entire body was tingling in the worst way possible, more tears spilling down his cheeks as he finally braved a look upwards, his eyes focusing on the black fabric that was covering Mickey’s back, the cotton moving slightly as he made his way out of the kitchen.

 

Ian found himself wondering if there was anything that could be done, anything at all. There just had to be. Something that he could find by wracking his brain, something beautiful, or something profound. Something meaningful. Something that would change this horrible course that their relationship was currently taking.

 

“Mick?” His voice was weak, shaky, vibrating. Sad. Anything and everything that it never was. Fuck, he didn’t even recognize the sound himself.

 

“Yeah?” The brunet sighed back, turning around in the doorway in between the kitchen and big hall.

 

“I’m sorry” Mickey was quiet for a beat, their eyes on each other’s.

 

“Yeah” He finally sighed, slowly turning around again. “Yeah, me too”

 

Ian watched him make his way across the expensive, white Italian marble and towards the huge, double front doors. It made a heavy slamming sound as Mickey made his way out of Ian’s life, and he thought that maybe he could even hear his heart breaking.

 

That wasn’t it.

 

***

 

About five hours later, Mickey arrived home to a dark, empty penthouse. It wasn’t unusual, Ian rarely had the time to travel across the entire town just to spend the night when he would have to get up early as it was. But somehow, tonight it felt different.

 

The town was lit outside of his big windows, shining throughout the darkness, gracing his place with a light wash of something other than black.

 

Mickey attempted to take a deep breath, the act ending up in really nothing more than a weak, shaky sigh. Tonight, for some reason, everything just felt more… lonely. As if not much mattered anymore, at least not as much as he had led himself to believe it did.

 

Ian, he wasn’t Mickey’s boyfriend anymore. He was his ex boyfriend. Maybe it shouldn’t crush him quite had badly as it did, for fucks sakes, with their crazy schedules and lack of time they hadn’t even managed to officially move in together. But five years was still a long time.

 

Ian was a part of Mickey. A part of his soul, a part of his very being. However, none of that changed the fact that he was positive that they had decided on the right thing for right now. No matter how painful that realization may be.

 

They weren’t angry at each other, of course. Mickey had since long forgiven Ian for anything he had done wrong, and vice versa. But even if you manage to forgive a person, maybe those bumps and mistakes are going to stick with you, no matter how much you wish that they didn’t have to. You can’t just decide to trust somebody because you want to. And trust was one of the most important things that went into a relationship. Trust was one of the things that Ian and Mickey hadn’t shared in a long time.

 

Mickey tried another deep breath - this time succeeding somewhat better - and then he dropped the keys on the small table by the door and flicked the lights on, making sure to dimmer them to the point where there was almost no point in having them turned on in the first place. He just couldn’t quite handle bright lights right now.

 

His leather jacket was thrown over the back of his couch, and then he walked towards his kitchen, taking the two small steps upwards from what was considered the living room area. He opened the fridge door, frowning at the strong lights, getting his beer as fast as possible before he closed it again and leaned back against the counter, looking out over his home.

 

Now was the first time he had had all day to fully get a chance to melt all of this shit. There had been hours of measuring fitting and trying and stretching, and despite the fact that he really didn’t have to do any work other than just stand there, it was exhausting on a day like this one. A day when he just wanted to go home and hide under the covers. Possibly never exit his penthouse again.

 

Mickey had been able to hide his heartbreak somewhat, he was an actor after all, and a pretty good one if he was allowed to say so himself. But it was different when he wasn’t at work. Angela, his manager, had been with him for almost longer than Ian had, so of course she knew him well, which was why she had immediately noticed that there was something going on. When he had mouthed the question, though, Mickey had just shaken his head slightly. Thankfully, she hadn’t pushed the issue. She was smart enough to realize that that head-shake had meant _‘Please don’t ask. I’m not ready to talk about it’_ and not _‘No. Nothing is wrong’._

 

As Mickey popped the cap off of the beer and took a big gulp of the drink, there was only one single feeling clouding his body. Numbness. Maybe it was because he was overwhelmed, or maybe his head had just spun and spun way more than what was technically healthy today. But either way, the heartache was gone from his body. Or possibly it was just so fucking painful that he couldn’t even feel it. That he was mentally passed out or some shit.

 

Mickey knew that someday soon he would probably break down, flashes of memories pumping in and out of his brain, driving him down further than he already was. Maybe he would sink down onto the kitchen floor with a bottle of Jack. Maybe he would smoke a little bit more weed than he usually did. But either way, he was thankful that that day wasn’t tonight. Tonight, he was just… numb.

 

Mickey’s eyes traveled absentmindedly over his penthouse. His expensive hardwood floors, his sofa that probably cost a fuck of a lot more than the house he grew up in. The view.

 

_“I could fuck you right here. Up against the glass. Give everyone a show. It would be so fucking hot”_

 

Mickey quickly blinked the memory away, taking another big gulp of the beer in his hand, hoping that it would wash it away. The beer was - just like many other material items in his life - the kind that he never would have been able to dream of affording in his teens.

 

The point was that as Mickey looked over everything, somehow none of it seemed to matter. The fact that he wasn’t even twenty five years old with more money in the bank than he ever would be able to count… he felt nothing for it.

 

Somehow, he had never felt more poor than he did in this very moment.

 

***

 

It took almost two whole days before Mickey finally gathered up the courage and found the time to drive over to Ian’s mansion to pick up whatever things he had ended up leaving behind. He had considered asking Angela or one of his friends to do so, but somehow, as difficult as he knew it was going to be, he also knew that it was something he needed to do for himself. It was necessary for him to take half an hour or so to go through everything, to remember and mourn before he could finally take a deep breath and walk out that door, leaving the memories behind.

 

After Mickey had shut the car off, he couldn’t quite bring himself to move immediately. He stayed seated in his silver colored Jeep, looking up at the big, white house that he had once been damn fucking near calling his home.

 

It was so strange, now. To think about it. Of course he and Ian had only been officially broken up for a few days, but even before that, they hadn’t quite been the same as they were the first few years of their relationship. Everything had been amazing for roughly four years - more than amazing. Maybe Mickey should have appreciated that time more. He didn’t quite know what went wrong, or maybe in a way, everything did and nothing did.

 

Ian and Mickey both just kind of… relaxed. Started taking each other for granted and treating the other poorly because they knew that their love was so strong that they didn’t need to keep fighting for their relationship.

 

Mickey would love to say that one huge thing had broken their bond, but that wasn’t the truth. The truth was that with every little lie and every little kiss with someone else, both of them had bit by bit beaten their trust to death, and here they were.

 

Mickey let his eyes fall closed as he forced himself to inhale deeply, and then exhale just as dramatically until finally, he opened his eyes and stepped out of his car onto the large stoned gravel. His legs - his entire body, in act - felt unnaturally heavy as he made his way up to the heavy doors. He knew that he should move as quickly as he could, just get in and then get out. But for some reason, despite the fact that he didn’t have much time, he felt the need to somehow drink everything in. Remember everything, because it was very probable that this would be the very last time he was inside of this house. Inside of Ian’s life somehow. It felt so fucking strange to have to let go of something that had once been as good as the other half of your own very being.

 

He took another deep breath as he fished his keys out of his back pocket and slid the main one into the keyhole, the door opening without as much as a sound.

 

Mickey stepped into the white, expensive looking hall, nothing but silence embracing him. He swallowed, pushing the two bags he was carrying further up on his shoulder, feeling the filled one start to become a little bit heavy. After that, he went still, his eyes still gazing out over the space.

 

It didn’t look like much more than just pure money. White Italian marble floors, ceilings that were so high that you would break your neck if you tried to look at it standing up, an elegant staircase that begun from two opposite places. None of it was really that much of Mickey’s style, but this house had been so much to him over the years. Safety. It was comfortable. It was home.

 

 

***

 

  
_“This is your fucking house?” Mickey snorted, walking into the palace right after Ian. The redhead chuckled for a bit, holding the door open until they were both inside, then he closed it, eyes on Mickey as he walked a couple of more steps forwards, stopping to look around._

 

_“Yeah…” Ian scratched the back of his neck, eyes connecting with those beautiful blue ones when Mickey turned around to face him again. Both of their stomachs swelled in the best way, just because they were close. Neither of them had every truly felt anything like that before. Despite the fact that they were kind of confused about how they could have such strong feelings for one person after such a short amount of time of knowing the other, it didn’t matter. They were both okay with being confused, somehow it made it all the more magical. “I didn’t grow up with much, you know that. So I kind of went a little bit crazy just because I finally could” He explained truthfully._

 

_“Buying a sports car is crazy” Mickey pointed out teasingly, taking a step closer to Ian, his hands landing on the taller man’s waist. Ian smiled down at him, unable to even roll his eyes in fake-annoyance._

 

_“Like your place is such a dump” He said instead, placing his hand on the back of Mickey’s neck, his fingertips ending up in the beautiful black hair. It was as if they were both completely incapable of keeping their hands off of each other._

 

_“At least I settled for a fucking apartment” Mickey shot back, but his mouth was pulled into a grin to match Ian’s._

 

_“A huge penthouse” Ian corrected, his thumb rubbing smooth circles on Mickey’s cheekbone._

 

_“Whatever the fuck” Mickey laughed. “It’s not a mansion” Ian tilted his head to the side, a hint of a smirk slipping in to blend with his kind, amused smile._

 

_“Are you making fun of me?” Mickey hummed, nodding as they pulled each other a little bit closer, butterflies tumbling around and around in the base of their stomachs._

 

_“I’m allowed to mock you now, remember?” The brunet curled his fists into the white fabric of Ian’s v neck, stepping even closer, tilting his head upwards so that their lips rested just a few inches away from each other, their breaths fanning over the other’s lips. “I’m your boyfriend”_

 

_“Boyfriend” Ian repeated, voice low as his fingers curled into the black strands at the nape of Mickey’s neck, their faces slowly inching closer and closer, Mickey’s eyes flickering between Ian’s and his lips. “I love hearing that so fucking much”_

 

_Mickey hummed._

 

_“I love saying it”_

 

 

***

 

 

Mickey reached up to wipe away a tear that he hadn’t even been aware of, and then he forced himself to take another deep breath as he pushed the painfully beautiful memory back to the very darkest corner of his mind. He hitched the bags further up on his shoulder, and then he turned to his right, walking towards the white big, white stairs. He took the steps one by one, the heartbreak weighing him down.

 

Another memory popped into his mind as his eyes drifted over the styled, metal railing. He and Ian had both been drunk, stumbling home at four am after a night out with their friends. Ian had for some reason thought that it was a good idea to run up to the very top of the stairs - so high up that you could surely commit suicide by jumping down - and then slide back down on the railing. They had both done it probably five or six times before the fun had finally ended with them spewing their guts out.

 

It wasn’t a beautiful memory, or a particularly bad one. Fuck, with how many neat whiskeys Mickey had consumed that night, he didn’t even remember most of the details, but it still stabbed him in the gut, and he was forced to blink away another tear as he finished the last steps and made his way towards the bedroom.

 

Mickey sighed deeply, the bag stuffed full of Ian’s things falling to the white mat with a dunce as his eyes traveled over the room. It didn’t look any different than it had a few days back. The bright light curtsy of the big windows was the same, the bed was perfectly made by one of Ian’s housekeepers, not a wrinkle in the sheets, just as usual. The closet door was closed almost all the way, leaving a small space left because Ian could never be bothered to shut it all the way in the morning.

 

Everything was the exact same as it always had been, and yet, it was so fucking different. Mickey’s stomach was tumbling in the worst way, his heart aching even worse at the thought that something could stay so perfect while his entire world was being turned upside down.

 

It wasn’t that he was not aware of the fact that this was the right thing to do, it truly was. But that didn’t mean that he couldn’t feel the huge hunting knife, stabbing him in the gut over and over again. His throat welling up, stomach tumbling, making him want to heave his breakfast.

 

Mickey dropped the empty bag to the floor as well, a hand resting over his stomach as he took the short, few steps towards the bed to sit down on top of the white sheets. The grief was for some reason way too overwhelming, he needed a minute.

 

 

***

 

  
_“One year” Ian beamed as he pulled Mickey into the bedroom by his hands, their fingers tightly laced together. As much as Mickey tried, it was completely impossible for him to keep the grin from showing up on his own face, he was too fucking happy._

 

_A part of him still had a hard time believing that this was really it. That Ian was his. The man had guys - and girls, of course, but Mickey wasn't too worried about them - hanging after him constantly. Just the thought that Ian wasn’t only attracted to Mickey, but that he actually loved him - once in a while, Mickey just had to pinch himself. It was all just too amazing. Then again, Ian had told him on numerous occasions that he felt the exact same way._

 

_“One year” Mickey spoke back, kicking the door closed behind them as he tugged Ian closer, stretching his neck upwards, silently begging for a kiss. Ian hummed into it, their practiced lips easily slipping together. The pale, tattooed hands slowly slipped out of Ian’s grasp to wrap around his middle as their tongues slid over each other’s, neither of them aware of anything but the incredibly strong feelings that they had for each other._

 

_“I love you so much” Ian muttered into Mickey’s mouth, the dark, sexy voice pouring into his ears._

 

_“I love you” Mickey spoke back, the words so fucking true that his heart ached._

 

 

***

 

  
Mickey was having second thoughts.

 

Of course he was having second thoughts. Who fucking wouldn’t? He doubted many people in the world had gotten the chance to experience love quite to the degree that he had with Ian. Their relationship had been a mess, especially towards the end. But through it all, one thing had kept them together - their hot, passionate, fiery, never-give-up-on-each other love.

 

Yeah. Their love had kept them together. Until it didn’t.

 

Mickey had of course had quite a while to melt this now, but somehow, being here in the house that he had for a long time considered his home, papers to prove it or not, it just made it all the more real. By stepping into this bedroom, knowing that it was for the last time ever - he realized that it was truly the end of an era. A really good era. As soon as he walked out that door, he would be saying goodbye to this part of his life.

 

He hadn’t even noticed the fact that he was crying until something wet hit his wrist. He looked down just in time to see the teardrop roll off of his body and down to the sheets. The blue eyes clamped closed, both of his fists clenching around the sheets - this time a lot less pleasure coursing throughout his body than when he usually did that.

 

Mickey kept choking on sob after sob, tears streaming down his cheeks, although he did his best to keep quiet and still which just made it worse. The stabbing in his gut, the pounding in his head, the voice in his head telling him that he was doing the wrong thing, all of it just blended together resulting in even more of all of it, driving him completely insane as he kept crying and crying, flashes of red hair and green eyes and sweet whispered words flashing before his shut eyes.

 

“Mick?”

 

Mickey ripped himself out of his sad haze at Ian’s voice, wiping his tears, quickly doing his best to get rid of any evidence of his meltdown even though he knew that there was no hiding it. Knowing his ex boyfriend as well as he did, Ian had probably been standing in the doorway for at least a few seconds before he had made himself known.

 

“Sorry” Mickey cleared his throat, eyes still on the sheets before him. “I’m just um… Just picking up some stuff. Thought you wouldn’t be here”

 

“Yeah” Ian said. “I was just gonna change my car really quick before I head to meet Tony”

 

Mickey nodded, and the room was filled with a slightly awkward silence as he stepped off of the bed, walking a few steps across the room to pick up the empty bag that he had brought with him. A good few feet were left in between him and Ian, his head dipped, eyes on the carpet flooring. He didn’t quite have the balls to look Ian in the eye just now, it was too painful to even be in the same room.

 

“Look…” Ian’s soft voice reached Mickey’s ears. Just by the small crack in it, the brunet knew that he was just as heartbroken as he was, he was just a little bit better at fighting his tears in situations like these. It was strange, given that only one of them was an actor, and it wasn’t him, but somehow that’s the way it always had been. Maybe Mickey had just spent too much of his life hiding his feelings, so he didn’t see much of a point to it anymore. “It’s not too late, Mickey. You want to just say fuck it?” Pause. “Be us again?”

 

Mickey cleared his throat at the question. He could tell that that was exactly what it was. Ian’s words weren’t a plea disguised as a question, he was legitimately asking Mickey whether this was really what he wanted. And Mickey had his answer without needing to think twice.

 

“It’s… It’s hard, man. You know that” Finally, Mickey lifted his head, braving to lay his eyes on the green ones. Ian was nibbling the inside of his bottom lip in nervousness, his eyes blank with tears that wanted to spill. Mickey could tell how hard he was fighting it. “Five years is a long fucking time” Mickey ended the sentence with a sad, cracky chuckle, his lips pulling into a smile to match. “But um… That doesn’t mean that it’s wrong. Like you said, we’re not happy. We’re just… creatures of habit or some shit” They both chuckled at that, Ian nodding, his head dipping for a second, eyes falling to the floor before he straightened up again, the air in the room a little bit lighter somehow. “It’s what I want” Mickey became serious then, their eyes connecting again. “It’s what you want. It’s what we need, Ian”

 

They were quiet for another couple of beats, Ian feeling his chest spark up in the worst way as he watched Mickey’s lips pull back into that soft, comforting smile that he had always hated. It was the kind of smile that Mickey only used when he was trying to convince them both of something that wasn’t true. Something they both really wanted to believe anyway. Finally, he nodded, though, a sigh escaping his nose.

 

“Yeah” His gaze landed on Mickey’s shirt as he was trying to sort through the thick, cloudy mess inside of his head. “Alright”

 

The air inside of the room suddenly became very heavy again - not awkward as it had been for a few minutes right when Ian had walked in, just heavy. Sad. As if neither of them knew what to say or what to do.

 

“Well um… Could you leave the key under the mat? I need to leave, Tony’s going to be pissed, I’m already late”

 

Mickey forced himself to straighten up further, clearing his throat as his head moved up and down a couple of times in agreement.

 

“Yeah” He breathed. “Yeah I’ll leave the key”

 

  
A minute or two later, the front door slammed closed after Ian, leaving Mickey alone in the house once again, his eyes traveling over the room.

 

It was so strange.

 

Seeing Ian should have made him even more heartbroken, shouldn't it? Mickey thought that seeing his face, hearing his voice, feeling his warmth in the room would have made him… sad. Angry and pissed off at everybody and everything that had ever gotten them and their relationship to this horrible cliff edge.

 

But it… it… it didn’t. Actually.

 

Mickey’s heart didn’t feel heavier, his mind didn’t feel any more cloudy. Fuck, if anything… Mickey felt lighter. His and Ian’s relationship was over. Forever. And as painful as it was and surely would be for a long time ahead, that didn’t change that fact. They were over. Finished. Never to be again.

 

Mickey wouldn’t call the feeling erupting in his chest good, he didn’t feel good. But he felt… calm. Okay with what had gone down, and honestly? Ready to move on.

 

He kept blinking over the room, memory after memory flashing before his eyes, but none of it made him any more heartbroken. His eyes were long dried up by now, and left was a slightly bitter taste on his tongue. A taste that was more than survivable.

 

Mickey forced himself to take a deep breath, and then he walked over to Ian’s closet, opening the door completely and stepping into the small room, tilting his neck upwards to see what belonged to him, taking those things into his hand, ridding Ian’s closet of anything that linked them together.

 

Of course, after five years together - especially since they were both the same sex - some of their clothes had started to blend together, neither of them quite sure who bought what. Mickey didn’t quite have the time nor the energy to figure that out, though. He took what he was sure what one hundred percent his, and the things that only he had worn in the past year or so, even if Ian might have paid for it once upon a time.

 

Then he walked out of the closet again, closing the door behind him. The empty bag was zipped open and laid out onto the bed before Mickey started folding the clothing pieces, not caring too much about what it looked like.

 

He did his best to focus on the task at hand, making sure that his mind didn’t drift anywhere bad. Surely in the near future he would have another meltdown about this all - he couldn’t imagine getting over Ian Gallagher would have to be anything short of a roller-coaster ride. But that would all have to wait. Right now, he needed to keep his back straight, eyes dry, at least until he was out of this house.

 

Once Mickey’s clothes - along with a phone charger, a jar of hairgel and his toothbrush - were packed down into the bag, he zipped it back up, the rip somehow sounding so final. His tongue found his cheek, lips slightly parted as he rolled his eyes, his gaze focusing on the ceiling as he willed himself to keep the tears from dropping.

 

It hurt, it did. But that didn’t mean that it wasn’t right. It hurt. But that didn’t mean that it wasn’t right.

 

Somehow, those words echoed inside of Mickey’s brain, reminding him that no matter what Ian and him had gone through - good or bad - they had to be thankful that it had ended like this.

 

Their relationship hadn’t ended because of something big. It hadn’t been sudden. They had just… faded out. Somehow, despite the fact that they both did love each other very much to this day, they had fallen out of love. He wasn’t really sure if that made any sense what so ever, but it was the truth.

 

Mickey heaved the bag onto his shoulder, his tears drying up again as he looked over the room, drinking everything in, somehow wanting to remember it all and erase it from his memory at the same time. He took the three steps towards the closet door, cracking it open a little bit, making sure that he left it just the way Ian always did. For some reason, that seemed very important.

 

His tongue slipped in between his teeth, settling in his cheek as he forced himself to take another deep breath. Finally, he allowed his legs to lead him out of the room, the hunting knife buried in his chest somehow stabbing him once, extra power behind the action as he carefully pulled the door with him, hearing it snap closed.

 

With every single step that Mickey took down the stairs, his legs felt lighter. His eyes fell on the big, heavy double entry doors, the sun welling into the hall through the frosted glass, making the white marble flooring look all the more shiny.

 

Mickey couldn’t help but entertain the idea that maybe that was a sign. That now, after he and Ian had said goodbye, and he had packed up his things, that the sun shone a little bit brighter, the world feeling a little bit lighter. Despite the fact that he and Ian had never had a toxic or abusive relationship - unhealthy in some ways maybe, but that’s a thought for another day - letting go of it felt amazing.

 

Ian and Mickey had fought and fought and fought. They had screamed at each other, they had blamed themselves, and with every single fiber of their beings, they had done their absolute best to hold on to something that - if they could allow themselves to be honest for once - they just didn’t want anymore.

 

And for what? For other people to be happy? For them to try to cling onto the people they were five years ago? It didn’t work that way.

 

Mickey soon realized that he had stopped walking. He was standing in the middle of the staircase, eyes traveling over the big house, his heart somehow nonexistent. He didn’t feel sad or angry. Or happy, of course. He just felt… done.

 

A big sigh escaped out through his parted lips, and he took the couple dozen remaining steps down to the first floor, his legs bearing him towards the doors. His fist clenched around the strap of his bag, his back to the wood, eyes soaring one last time over the big hall, the house that had been his home. He forced himself to take another, deep - and surprisingly steady breath - and a small, soft smile stretched across his lips as he reached behind himself, cracking the door open. He was ready.

 

Now, he was saying goodbye to this chapter of his life.

 

***

 

On the way to the arena, Ian’s hands clenched the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles were turned completely white. His heart was thrumming in his chest, violently enough that he was starting to have to remind himself to breathe.

 

Inhale. Exhale.

 

His mouth was dry, eyes anything but as he got closer and closer to the last place he wanted to be on earth right now. He loved his job, he did - fuck, he shouldn’t even be allowed to call it a job - but in this moment, all he wanted was to be left alone. Say ‘fuck it’ to every single one of his responsibilities and go to Mexico or some shit.

 

Only, that was wishful thinking. He couldn’t do that. Despite the puma tearing through his insides, he had to force his eyes to keep dry, he had to will his breathing to get lighter and he had to pretend that nothing at all was wrong in his life. At least for right now.

 

As soon as he was inside of the building, he was met by his crew, pouring words and frowns over him. There were ‘Ian’s thrown together with _‘Why are you here so late?’_ s and _‘I swear to god, if you’re not on time tomorrow…’s._ But he couldn’t bring himself to give a fuck. Not yesterday, and certainly not today.

 

Not after seeing Mickey like that. It was all too painful, too much of a reminder of everything that he had done wrong.

 

Mickey was right, of course. No matter how difficult this all was, they had to go their separate ways, there were no two ones about it. They had to do this and they had to do this now.

 

Ian knew that he should tell Tony about it. Or anyone, really. Maybe that would get him some more free time to grieve, make everybody ease up on him a little bit, but that wasn’t what he wanted. Or what he needed. Ian didn’t want to answer any questions about it, and he didn’t want to have to think about it any more than he already did.

 

Mourning his relationship with Mickey was hard enough on his own, and while some people may think that having help and support in the process would make them feel better, Ian wasn’t one of those people. If he told someone, somehow it would make it all the more real. Somehow, the looks of pity, the ‘Oh, I’m so sorry, what happened?’s, it would all just add up to even more heartbreak. Something Ian just couldn’t handle right now.

 

Ian continued past the crowd of crew, continuing to ignore the questions being thrown over him. Finally, his hairstylist and clothing designer gave up, leaving only his manager to follow him as he kept taking long strides, wanting to get to his dressing room as fast as possible so that maybe he could have a couple of minutes to himself.

 

“Ian! Ian!” Ian sighed deeply, not stopping for a second, his eyes falling closed, fists clenching inside of the tight pockets of his jeans.

 

He knew that he shouldn’t be taking all of this out on the people he worked with, all of them were incredibly kind, and honestly, most of them he would probably consider some of his best friends. He shouldn’t be annoyed with them being annoyed with him, that didn’t make any sense at all. Especially when they had no idea about his and Mickey’s split. But right now, his teeth were clenched together, and all he wanted to do was to go home and hide under his covers - provided his ex boyfriend was out of his bedroom by now. Fuck.

 

“Ian!” The horse voice was getting closer, and finally Ian stopped, turning around to face his manager.

 

“Not now, Tony” He shook his head, just barely recognizing the sound of his own voice. He sounded so dark, angry. Yet so sad in a way. “Not now” He repeated, the sound now more of a whisper, right before he spun around again, storming into his dressing room.

 

***

 

“Fine” She nodded, eyes deep into the blue ones as tears all but streamed down her cheeks. Her throat felt tight, snurped shut in fact. As if she would never be able to breathe again. “Help me. Clean me up. Make me… immaculate” She sighed, watching the heartbreak in the eyes of the boy she loved so dearly. “Fill me up with your promises, your words and the lies”

 

Her long, light brown hair moved with her as she shrugged, her eyes traveling around the room for a moment before finally settling back onto her boyfriend, closing her arms around herself.

 

“Elle, please” He begged, two tears pouring down his cheek.

 

“Tears, Will?” The girl’s voice cracked. "Are they supposed to just wash it all away? I mean, the…” The girl took a deep breath, more tears starting to pool in her eyes. “The I’ll always love you’s? The I don’t blame you’s?” Another long exhale escaped her lips before she finally breathed the last words, her voice shaking. “The forever’s?”

 

Will blinked back at her for a second, throat welling up.

 

“Fuck” Mickey cursed, falling out of character. “I’m sorry” He said, running a hand over his face, willing his tears back into his eyes. He couldn’t do this, not now. Out of all the fucking times to crack, this was possibly the absolute worst one, but it was as if he had zero control what so ever. “I have to, um… I’m sorry” He said again, quickly walking off of set, hurrying back to his trailer, the lump in his throat growing bigger and bigger with every single step.

 

This was probably the most unprofessional he had ever been in his entire career, but he couldn’t worry about it. Not now. Right now he needed to get to his trailer as fast as possible so that he could have some time to gather himself. The little door slammed behind him and he leaned against it, his eyes clenching shut in pain as he let it take over, more and more tears pouring down his cheeks.

 

Mickey had thought that he was fine. Honestly and truthfully fine. He was hurting, of course. But under the circumstances, fine had been the one word sticking out. He had kind of been forced to tell himself he was anyway.

 

However, it was kind of safe to say that cracking in the middle of a scene just because a random line reminded him of Ian and the breakup… was proof enough that he was anything but.

 

Mickey jumped, startled by a heavy banging on his door. A deep breath escaped his mouth and he forced himself to take another one before he turned around and opened it, bracing himself for whatever barking that would surely be directed his way.

 

Angela was standing before him, arms crossed, determined look on her face. After five years of having her as a manager, Mickey was very familiar with her ‘What the fuck did you just do?’ face. This wasn’t it. Instead her mouth was drawn into a line, eyebrows raised and Mickey wasn’t quite sure what was going through her head, so he just sighed, backing up a little bit so that she could enter the in through the small door.

 

Once it was closed behind them, she sighed, eyes on Mickey.

 

“What’s going on?”

 

Mickey’s eyes stung as the tears dried up, making him feel even more exhausted than he already was. He didn’t have the energy to play dumb and pretend that he didn’t know what she was talking about. He had been acting weird, sad, emotionless every single day for the past week, and he knew that she had noticed it.

 

Thankfully, Angela was kind enough to ignore things like his personal life as long as it didn’t get in the way of his professional one. Which it obviously had, so now she was determined to find out was the fuck was wrong with him.

 

Mickey stared back at her for a second before he finally cracked, running his hands over his face before letting his arms drop to his sides, his mouth spilling everything.

 

***

 

Ian sighed, holding the blow-dryer up to his head as he used his free hand to ruffle through the strands, making sure that it all would dry as fast as possible. He should really get better at showering earlier so that he didn’t have to go through this hassle. Using a blowdryer also made hair way too fluffy, which was definitely a look that he was never seeking.

 

He sighed as he continued the movements, his mind running away to places other than his dressing room. Running away to Mickey. It had been quite a few days since he had been by the house to pick up his things, but the sight of him sobbing on Ian’s bed still haunted him.

 

Ian had thought that maybe things would get easier the more time passed - granted a week wasn’t a lot of time, but his point still stood - it didn’t, though. It didn’t seem to get even a little bit easier no matter how much he submerged himself in his songwriting. During the huge fights or the almost breakups that he had gone through with Mickey in the past - and there had been quite a few. You don’t go five years without some bumps in the road - writing songs about it had been what had healed him. At least a little bit.

 

And then when they had gotten back together, he had written more. No matter what faced him, Ian had always turned to song writing, singing and performing. It always helped. Always.

 

Not this time.

 

It was as if he was just way too gone to write, too sad to sing without his voice cracking and for that matter - too heartbroken to get out of bed. He did, though. Ian was out of bed, walking and talking every single day, but he nothing every really registered with him. His mind was always somewhere else and when he went to bed at night, he could just barely remember where he had gone and what he had done that day.

 

There was not a single doubt in his mind that this was the worst pain he had felt in his entire life.

 

Ian was ripped out of his hazey mind by a hand on his shoulder, and he sighed, clicking the hairdryer off and spinning around on his stool, looking up at his manager.

 

Tony was staring back down at him, arms crossed.

 

With his long hair, hat and soul patch he could easily be mistaken for a slightly younger Steven Tyler. And that wasn’t just Ian’s opinion - he got it a lot. The truth was that Ian couldn’t have asked for a better manager, Tony was more like a friend or a father figure than anything else. However, on the rare occasion that Ian did something truly wrong and Tony had to get mad - he got mad.

 

After so many years of sticking together, Ian could read Tony’s face like a book and right now, he was fucking pissed as all hell. Granted, Tony had never been one for yelling or screaming, but that didn’t mean that Ian couldn’t feel the chill going through the room.

  
  
He sighed, standing up, just barely towering over the other man as both of their eyebrows went higher. Ian patiently waited for his manager to start speaking, swallowing, somehow knowing that whatever was coming wasn’t going to be good.

 

Tony’s tongue darted out to wet his own lips, his arms slightly loosening around himself and Ian could tell that he was doing his best to calm himself down before he started talking.

 

“You and Mickey split?” At those words, Ian sighed heavily, crossing his arms around himself, dipping his head to look down at the cement floor, a heavy sigh escaping out through his parted lips. He could feel a knife going through his heart at the words, but finally, he forced his head up and down a few times, nodding yes.

 

The room was silent for a second, Ian awaiting the explosion that never came. He took a deep breath. And then another one. Before finally, he lifted his head back up, looking at his manager, swallowing roughly. Tony was just blinking back at him, an expression on his face that Ian oddly enough couldn’t quite read. Maybe it was sadness. Maybe it was pity. Maybe it was a swirl of emotions all at once. Tony licked his lips again - a sure tell tale sign that he wasn’t quite sure what to say next.

 

“Is that why you have been acting so strange, man?” Ian nodded.

 

“Yeah” He tightened his arms around himself, doing his best to swallow down the lump in his throat. He didn’t like this, not one bit. Of course he had planned on telling his manager about this breakup, but it had just barely been a week. He would have liked a little while longer to melt it before he broke the news.

 

Tony blinked back at him, staying quiet for another beat.

 

“You alright?” Ian dug his fingertips into his upper arms, his shoulders lifting a little bit in some kind of shrug.

 

“I will be” He spoke truthfully, and Tony nodded at that. “How did you find out?” Ian asked then, his eyebrows knitting together ever so slightly.

 

“Your ex boyfriend told Angela”

 

“Don’t call him that” Ian spit immediately, not having the time to think before the words were out of his mouth. If acknowledging the fact that he and Mickey were no longer a couple hurt like a bitch, actually hearing the what he was to Ian now was nothing less than pure, fiery, painful hell. He dug his fingertips deeper into his arms, shifting his gaze down to the grey floor again, forcing himself to blink away the tears welling up.

 

“Sorry” Tony spoke. “Still hurts?” It was an incredibly redundant question, but Ian didn’t have the energy to call him out on it. Instead he just gave his manager another few nods.

 

“Yeah. Yeah, it still hurts” Ian answered, finally lifting his head, making eye contact with Tony again.

 

“I understand that” The redhead frowned, immediately recognizing the the change of tone in his manager’s voice. It went from _‘I’m your friend. Are you okay?’_ to _‘I’m your manager. I handle your career’_ really fucking fast. “Me and Angela talked for a long time about this…”

 

“Wait” Ian interrupted Tony, his frown becoming harder with every second that passed. He swallowed roughly, his wet eyes drying up. “About what? Look, I get that it’s a shock, but it’s not that big of a deal” Ian spoke truthfully.

 

Sure, him and Mickey breaking up was one of the most world shaking, heart breaking things that he had ever gone through, but in terms of their careers, it wasn’t big enough for their managers to talk. At all, really, much less for a long time.

 

“Ian, calm down. Let me explain” Tony spoke. His dark, somehow fatherly voice causing Ian’s head to move up and down a couple of times in agreement despite the fact that he was all but a hundred percent sure that he would not like wherever this was going.

 

Tony crossed his arms back around himself, mimicking Ian’s pose as his tongue darted out, swiping across his large bottom lip right before he started talking.

 

“Being that the split is sudden, and that you haven’t announced it anywhere, she and I agreed that it would be best if you at least attend the country music awards together next week”

 

“Wait…” Ian spoke, his eyebrows pulled so tightly together that they were almost touching.

 

He forced himself to try to register the words. He and Mickey couldn’t possibly attend the CMA awards together, it would mess everything up. Ian had just now stopped crying twenty two hours a day, he couldn’t see Mickey, but less hold him and pretend that they were still together, it would send him right back on his ass to square one. Maybe even further back if possible.

 

“I -We can’t do that” Was all he managed to utter, his fingertips digging far into his arm in frustration, wishing that he was near a boxing bag of some kind. Tony sighed, letting his arms drop to his sides again, eyes filling with something that Ian read off as pity.

 

“I get that it’s tough, alright? And you know that I’m your friend. I love you, but I’m also your manager and I have to care about your career more than your feelings, it’s my job. Walk the carpet with an arm around his waist, kiss his temple. You know how people judge these things, it’s much better for your career. Then you can do whatever you want”

 

Ian sighed, swallowing roughly as he blinked back at Tony, the actions slow as he struggled to process this shit. It was complete and utter bullshit in his opinion. He wasn’t sure why people would care whether he and Mickey were still together or not. He didn’t care who his favorite celebrities were dating.But then again, people did care. The pressure of that was a big reason why he and Mickey had started to drift apart to begin with.

 

“Ian, you’re on in five!” Ian jumped slightly at the loud voice, and then he waved the guy away, nodding as he let his eyes fall back onto his manager.

 

“I don’t have much of a choice, do I?”

 

“No” Tony said, voice almost a whisper as he shook his head. Ian sighed deeply, swallowing down the lump in his throat, lifting his hand to the back of his neck, gripping the skin in frustration.

 

“Can we talk about this later? You can explain to me why the fuck I would have to go through this?” Tony nodded in agreement, despite the fact that they both knew that there was nothing Ian could do or say that was going to change his mind.

 

***

 

Mickey’s legs were thrown up onto the coffee table that he at some point had felt the need to pay way too much money for. His eyes were blinking slowly, hand loosely wrapped around a green glass bottle as he was anywhere but there.

 

The penthouse was dark. It felt empty… sad. It had been draped in that feeling ever since that horrible day almost a week ago when Mickey’s life had been ripped apart. And if possible, he felt even worse now than he had a few hours ago. His day on set had been a complete mess, even more so after his little meltdown. His acting was terrible and to top it all off, apparently Angela and Tony had now decided that he and Ian were forced to attend the country music awards together. Crock of fucking shit.

 

Mickey wasn’t sure that he would be able to be within ten feet of Ian without having another breakdown, much less actually touch him and pretend that they were still in love and happy as ever. Sure, every event in the past year had been them pretending that they were happy, but this was different.

 

They weren’t together anymore. Any other even before they broke up, they had been able to try to trick themselves at the same time, but now they had to somehow convince the crowd that they were as happy as ever without breaking that wall in between them.

 

Mickey hadn’t seen Ian’s face since that day he had been by his house to pick up his things, much less actually talked to him. He wasn’t sure how this all was going to work out. It didn’t matter that Mickey was a beloved actor, when it came to his personal life he was a horrible one. A terrible liar.

 

Alas, Mickey had somehow decided to go along with it all - assuming of course that it was a one time thing - despite the fact that he was pretty sure that it would end in nothing but fire.

 

***

 

Ian ran back and forth across the stage, white spotlights blinding him, the crowd’s cheering blending together with the heavy country beat as he spit out line by line, voice dark. Flashes of Mickey and their previous life together traveled before his eyes, and he couldn’t help but roar the words into the microphone, taking his anger out in the only way he knew how. Music.

 

Beads of sweat started collecting on the back of his neck, his knuckles turning white around the microphone. It wasn’t much of a surprise that since he wrote all of his songs himself, most - if not all - of the ones he had to sing tonight, had been written about Mickey.

 

Sure, the one he had written about them ‘having fun together’ hurt less to sing than the one that went ‘ _six feet down and forever_ ’ but every single one of the words in every single one of the songs created a stab, deep in his heart. Making him feel as if he was positively dying.

 

The song that was currently booming through the arena was one of his favorites, though. It was the one he had written a little over a year ago, back when Mickey had cheated on him. Despite the fact that he had since long forgiven him for it - and the other way around because neither of them had been angels throughout their relationship - he loved singing it. It was so loud and rough that he could take out as much anger as he wanted into the microphone and it would sound good.

 

_“Well, that would be a deal breaker! A game changer!”_ Ian roared, running across the stage, a few strands of hair falling into his face. _“A bye-bye, baby. Yeah, I’ll see you later!”_ He continued, mind flashing with memory after memory.

 

The way his stomach had turned and twisted that night, knowing that Mickey had been balls deep inside of someone else, his fingers slipped into another guy’s hair. The heartbreaking realization that Mickey hadn’t done anything to Ian that Ian hadn’t done to him once upon a time.

 

_"Mr. Heartbreaker. A real player! A damn good liar, ain't no one greater!"_

 

Tears, heartbreak, screaming, yelling. Ian felt as if maybe every single painful thing that he and Mickey’s relationship had ever suffered through shot him in the chest as he threw all of his energy into the song, singing louder and with more power than he ever could have remembered doing before, the crowd screaming just as loudly with praise.

 

_“I’m giving you what you asked for!”_ Ian stopped in the middle of the stage, legs wide, neck tilting upwards, vein popping out of the skin, eyes clenched closed as he held the last word for a few seconds. _“You got yourself a deal breaker”_ His voice was deep with the last line of the chorus and suddenly, the words sank in, lump growing in his throat as he let his arm drop to his side, the music continuing.

 

A few seconds later, Ian was supposed to start singing again, but he didn’t. He couldn’t. His throat was too thick, the puma inside of his body ripping him into nothing less but a bloody mess. His head was tilted downwards, gaze on the grey floor of the stage. The music kept booming loudly, but by now the crowd had quieted down a little bit, realizing that Ian wasn’t singing.

 

Ian picked his free hand up, fingers digging into his eyes, hoping that the act would keep his tears from spilling over. It didn’t. He forced himself to swallow roughly, although it did nothing to kill the huge knot on his vocal chords. He couldn’t do anything.

 

All that he could feel was the vibrating, painful heartbreak shaking through his veins. After almost a minute, the music was shut off, and Ian was ripped back into the arena. He lifted his head and his microphone to his mouth as he looked out over the expecting faces. The frowns and the concerned expressions. Finally, he spoke.

 

“I’m sorry, I um… I can’t do this right now” With that he was walking off the stage.

 

Ian kept moving, head buzzing, chest throbbing, completely unable to manage a single coherent thought. His throat was completely knotted up, eyes burning with the need to shed tears.

 

“Ian, what is happening?!” Tony caught his arm, but Ian shook him off easily enough, continuing to take long strides towards his dressing room. “Ian!” Ian couldn’t even form the words to tell him to fuck off, his vocal chords were throbbing so badly, guts churning. If he opened his mouth to say something, chances were that nothing but a sob would end up escaping his lips.

 

And that’s exactly what happened.

 

As soon as Ian was inside of his cold, basement-like dressing room, he shoved the door closed with a loud thud, falling back against it. He clenched his eyes closed, lips parting slightly, a loud sob echoing through the room.

 

Pictures and memories of the only thing that Ian truly loved flashed throughout his brain, tear after tear trailing down his cheek. Ian’s crying only only got even worse as he sank down onto the floor, head dunking back against the wall. The only thing that he could truly focus on - the only thing that was clear in that very moment was his undying love for Mickey Milkovich. And how fucking badly he wanted to hold him.

 

Fuck, how did they even manage to get themselves here? They used to be so fucking perfect.

 

 

***

 

  
_Ian held out the last note of his song, feeling his stomach flutter with the rush he got from being on stage performing. After a second or two, the drum beat signalling the end of the song rang throughout the arena, and Ian breathed out, letting his arm drop to his side, hand still clutching the microphone._

 

_A grin was stretched over his lips as the crowd cheered, and his breathing was starting to catch up with him. It was so fucking amazing, really. That he just got to do this night after night. That he got to live his dream._

 

_A few minutes later, Ian was on to singing the next song, but he couldn’t quite focus the way that he usually did. The green eyes for some reason kept being dragged down to a guy in the front row. The truth was that most of the time, Ian was so into the lyrics and the music that he didn’t even make eye contact or pay attention to the people in the crowd. Not individually, at least._

 

_But something was just… he couldn’t quite understand it himself, but there was something special about this guy, something familiar._

 

_The stage was perched so much higher than the crowd, and that fact along with the strong, bright, colored spotlights made it slightly difficult for Ian to see much. What he did see, though, were a pair of bright blue eyes, staring up at him._

 

_It made him fucking dizzy. Confused in a way that he had never felt before, but he liked it._

 

  
_About an hour later, the show was finished and Ian had showered and changed back into his original clothes, heading out of his dressing room, hoping that he could go home pretty much immediately. As much as he loved meeting fans or talking to the crew about his next show, the watch on his arm was showing three am, and he was starting to feel the sleepiness course throughout his veins. The need to go home and curl up under his warm sheets._

 

_Thankfully, he got the green light, and soon he was heading outside towards his car. He reached up as he walked, running a hand through the dark red, damp strands of hair on top of his head. He swallowed, hoping that he would be able to drive himself home safely before he got way too exhausted. He loved performing more than anything, but fuck it took a lot out of him._

 

_The parking lot wasn’t quite as stuffed with cars now as it had been earlier, so Ian easily spotted the one other person out there. He was standing outside of a large, black SUV, one hand on the handle, opening the door halfway as he looked to be typing something out on his phone._

 

_The guy of course looked different out here in the unlit parking lot than in the loud, styled arena, but Ian still knew that that was him. The guy who had given him the butterflies just by looking at him._

 

_This parking lot was kind of hidden away, meant only for workers and the occasional celebrity who was interested in going to one of Ian’s concerts, so as much as Ian couldn’t quite place where he had seen him, he knew that he wasn’t going crazy. Maybe the guy was someone who worked backstage, but by the car he looked to be driving, Ian would put his money on him being an actor or a singer instead._

 

_Before he even really knew what he was doing, Ian was walking taking long strides over to him, his stomach somehow tumbling._

 

_“Hey…” He begun when he was close enough that he didn’t have to raise his voice. His legs felt shaky, head buzzing in a way that he couldn’t quite comprehend himself. The guy kept his gaze on his iphone screen for a second or two longer, and then he lifted his head, pushing the device into his back pocket, turning to the direction of the voice, his eyes landing on Ian’s._

 

_Yeah. There they were, Ian realized. Those deep, incredibly beautiful blue eyes that had nearly destroyed his show._

 

_“You’re Mickey” He couldn’t help but state when he finally managed to place where he had seen this man before. “Milkovich, the actor. Right?”_

 

_“Yeah” Mickey confirmed, crossing his arms, looking up at the country singer. Ian blinked back down at him, his entire body starting to stir even more violently at hearing even that one simple word fall from the man’s lips. “Had some time tonight, so I figured I’d come by. Check your show out” He explained then, and Ian raised his eyebrows in interest._

 

_“Yeah? You like country music?”_

 

_“No” Mickey answered immediately, a smirk stretching its way across his face. Some kind of sound between a sigh and a chuckle made its way out of Ian’s nose, and he was completely unable to keep himself from grinning as the blue eyes drifted down his body a little bit before settling back onto the green gaze, both men’s vocal chords knotting up for a second._

 

_Ian had no possible way to explain this. He didn’t know why he felt this way about a man that he had formally met less than five minutes ago. But logic didn’t have a place in the way his entire body seemed to tingle - his toes all the way up to the very top of his scalp._

 

_A low hum sounded in the base of his throat, and Ian took a small step closer to Mickey all the while making sure to keep quite some distance between them. His shoulders went up a little bit in some kind of a shrug, and he took a deep breath, feeling as if he was completely drowning in the blue colored orbs._

 

_“Maybe I could change your mind” Mickey tilted his head slightly to the side, lips slightly parted yet still rested into a smirk, the perfect, black eyebrows raised._

 

_“Yeah? Bet you could”_

 

 

***

 

  
And Ian had, he realized as the tears kept flowing down his pale, flushed cheeks. Ian had changed Mickey’s mind about the music. He had written over a hundred songs over the past five years - all dedicated to Mickey. In fact, he couldn’t remember the last time that he had sat down with his notebook and guitar that black hair and blue eyes hadn’t crowded every single one of his senses.

 

Ian had written beautiful songs about how much he loved the man. He had written apology songs, and songs begging for Mickey’s apology. He had written heartbreaking songs, songs that he was barely able to get through because of how much it hurt.

 

And Mickey had loved them. All of them.

 

Ian used to play for Mickey whenever he had finished a new song. He could always see his love hanging on to every single word, drinking in Ian’s voice, finally understanding how he felt. What he was trying to say. No matter if the song was about love, or heartbreak, or jealousy. Mickey had never once judged or disliked any of Ian’s music, because he knew that it was one of the only ways he could truly express himself. He would never put him down for that, even if one or two of the songs truly put Mickey in a bad light.

 

That was one of the reasons why Ian was so in love with Mickey to this day, he supposed. Because no matter what shit went down in between them, Mickey had always understood him. Always. From day one.

 

Ian knew that he had never and would never feel that way for somebody else. Ever.

 

The tears kept pouring down his face, eyes stinging, throat closing up at the unbelievable pain of the memories continuing to flash by.

 

 

***

 

  
_“Just…” Ian started, slightly nervous as he sat down on his couch, Mickey placing himself onto the coffee table ahead of him._

 

_Both of them were dressed in nothing but sweatpants, enjoying a rare, free sunday alone together. A lot of the day had been spent in bed, doing nothing but kissing and having sex, completely losing themselves in each other._

 

_Ian and Mickey hadn’t been together for more than a little over two months, but already they were more in love than either of them would ever be able to comprehend. A part of Ian found it scary, of course, and he knew that Mickey did too. But all he kept telling himself was that love didn’t make sense. It didn’t have to have to make sense to be real and earth-shattering._

 

_“Tell me if you don’t like it, alright?” Ian spoke, feeling his stomach stirring in nothing but nervousness. And love, of course. This was the very first time that he had ever decided to play Mickey one of his songs. He wasn’t sure why it had taken him this long, but it was just a very private thing to do._

 

_Actually he had played to him before, but it had all been covers and songs that weren’t directly about Mickey. This song Ian had been working on for the past two weeks, and it was all about his boyfriend. It was so fucking scary to sing it to him like this, but he wanted to do it._

 

_Mickey tilted his head slightly to the side, shaking it._

 

_“Man, I’m gonna love it. Come on. Play it already” Ian chuckled, nodding looking down slightly as he got his fingers into the correct positions. He closed his eyes, figuring that he could tone out some of the nervousness that way. Then he started._

 

“It’s hard to say the time and place that I knew” _Ian begun singing, voice low._ “It got hard to think of anything else but me and you”

 

_At this point, Mickey’s eyes were already starting to tear up a little bit, heart all but physically bursting out of his chest with the love he carried around for this man. Ian’s eyes were still closed, his lips curling perfectly around every single little syllable._

 

_He looked so fucking perfect, a strand of the red hair falling down onto his forehead, bare chest pale, littered with freckles that Mickey would love to spend the rest of his life memorizing. Ian kept picking at the guitar strings, line after line of beautiful lyrics pouring out from in between his lips._

 

_The older man blinked, a tear rolling down his cheek at how lucky he was. How lucky they both were to have found something like this. Something this strong,something this powerful._

 

_As far as Mickey was concerned, he wasn’t perfect, and surely there were parts of Ian that were less than as well. But the love in between them? That was._

 

_Ian finished, and stayed still for a second before letting his eyes flutter open, a small amount of nervousness clouding the beautiful green color. A small sound in between a sigh and a chuckle escaped Mickey’s nose. He couldn’t for the life of him understand what Ian was nervous about. The redhead swallowed visibly, and Mickey let a small smile grow its way across his face as he reached over to take the instrument from Ian’s grasp, gently placing it on the space of couch next to him._

 

_Ian seemed to relax when Mickey placed his hands on the back of his neck, fingers easily slipping into the strands of red hair as he got up from the coffee table, climbing onto Ian’s lap instead. Ian’s large hands fell onto his hips to steady him, his neck stretching slightly as he tilted his head upwards to look at his boyfriend._

 

_Mickey swallowed, with his right hand brushing some of the red hair behind Ian’s ear. The tension in the room was so thick that you could probably slit it with a knife. Not because anything was awkward or weird. But because that’s how powerful their love felt._

 

_“I loved it” Mickey managed, not quite sure what else he could possibly say to convey how much that song had tugged at his heartstrings. Not just the words and the music and the perfect way that Ian had looked and sounded singing it, but just because of the fact that Ian had written it for nobody but Mickey. It was Mickey’s song and the truth was that he was probably even more in love with Ian now than he had been an hour ago. If at all possible._

 

_Thankfully, Mickey didn’t have to say all of this. Ian just somehow got it. He always did._

 

 

***

  
Ian had his hands covering his face by now, sobbing harder than he had in probably his entire life. His fingers curled into his hair, all but clawing his face off. He wanted nothing more than to be rid of this pain. He wanted to be happy, he wanted to be back there, in that living room, five years ago. Not a fucking care in the world other than making Mickey somehow understand how much he loved him.

 

This hurt way too fucking bad. The throbbing inside of Ian’s chest, the ripping at his heart, the heartbreaking, burning sensation tearing throughout his veins, everything. All of it hurt. So bad.

 

For a second, Ian toyed with the thought of running out of this dressing room, going out to his car and driving over to Mickey’s place. If he were to knock on his door and crash their mouths together as soon as he had the chance, surely neither of them would have the self discipline to refrain from tearing each other’s clothes off. Ian knew that. It was the way they had always been together.

 

But he also knew that one way or another, the morning would come. And they would be here again. Broken up, heartbroken and alone. Ian couldn’t do that. He couldn’t do it to himself and he surely couldn’t do it to Mickey.

 

So he was stuck here, in this dressing room, tearing his heart out, wishing that things were different.

 

 

***

 

 

“Oh, hold on” Mickey sighed, but stopped his movements so that his stylist could straighten out his pant leg, making sure that he looked completely and utterly perfect. The clock was ticking closer and closer to eight, and Mickey’s stomach was tumbling worse and worse with every second that passed. Fuck, he didn’t want to do this. Not one fucking bit. What was the point? To make a good impression on the public? To keep up the charade that they were some happy fucking fairytale couple or some shit? All of that seemed like bullshit to Mickey, and he had a feeling that this was all less about impressions and more about money - not that he was sure how exactly that would happen, but after close to a decade in the business, he had learned that one way or another, everything was about money.

 

Mickey had had people rushing around him all day - styling his hair, changing his clothes, blotting his face - doing everything possible to make sure that he looked his best. Had the circumstances been different, maybe Mickey would have cared. Maybe he would have looked in the mirror and said _‘You know what? I look fucking good. Thanks guys’._ But as it was, this wasn’t different circumstances, this was now. And now, Mickey was just barely keeping himself on his feet.

 

Everything was just… confusing. Mickey had spent almost every single day in the past couple of weeks crying his eyes out because he missed Ian so much. When he wasn’t crying, he was pissed off as fuck. And when he wasn’t either of those things, he was figuring out strategic ways that he could go about avoiding the man.

 

Was it mature? Absolutely not.

 

But Mickey’s heart still took stabs whenever Ian popped into his mind - which was approximately once every three seconds - so he figured that he was allowed to do whatever he needed to do to make himself feel better about it. Even if it was just a fraction better.

 

“Mickey, I can imagine that this is going to be difficult for both of you…” Angela came back into his field of vision, looking down at the ipad in her hands which she was using to write something down. Mickey raised his eyebrows, silently thanking his stylists for finally letting go of him.

 

“No fucking shit” He couldn’t help but groan. He was aware of the fact that it was unprofessional to curse at his manager, but he couldn’t help it. In the past two weeks he had been heartbroken, pissed off and confused. Now he was bitter.

 

Besides, Angela had been with him for such a long time that she didn’t mind. She knew who Mickey was by now. A soft sigh escaped her lips as she crossed her arms, looking at him, that special look in her eyes that he easily interpreted as _‘Are you going to grow up and listen to me any time soon?’_ Mickey swallowed, deciding that this all would go over a lot smoother if he just kept his mouth shut and went along with it without complaining.

 

“But just…” Ang continued, folding the protector over the ipad screen, dropping her arm to her side. “Smile, breathe. Alright? It’ll be over in a few hours” Mickey dipped his head, gaze settling onto the floor for a second before he straightened up again, one of the biggest, most fake smiles he had ever had part in plastered across his face. Angela tilted her head slightly to the side, sighing. But at last she seemed to decide not to start this fight, and she nodded. “Yeah. Good” Then she walked away, and Mickey sighed.

 

“Smile and breathe” He whispered to himself, his voice just barely audible. “Fuck”

 

 

***

 

 

All of ten minutes later, the limousine pulled up outside of Mickey’s building, and Angela - along with a few other people that he worked with - followed him out. He swallowed roughly as the breeze of the night hit him. The tinted windows of the vehicle were so dark that they were almost completely black, and despite the fact that Mickey couldn’t see Ian quite yet, his heart immediately started pounding.

 

They hadn’t seen each other once since that day when Mickey had been by to get his things. And while the run in had been civil, of course it had been slightly awkward. It was incredibly difficult to even lay eyes on each other after such a painful breakup.

 

The blood started rushing a little bit faster through Mickey’s veins, and he’d probably say that his heart wasn’t so much throbbing against his ribcage as it was completely throwing itself against the bones, rattling his entire body. He didn’t want to do this. He didn’t want to see Ian, he didn’t want to drag all of this shit up again. Fuck, why couldn’t he have forced himself to stand his ground when Angela had first brought this up? Then again, it wasn’t as if he hadn’t tried. She was just a damn fucking good negotiator.

 

“Are you going to be okay?” Mickey jumped slightly at his manager’s hand on his shoulder, and he realized that he had stopped walking a few meters away from the car, gaze glued to the empty blackness of the shiny windows.

 

“Yeah” He forced himself to nod, feeling his entire body freeze with the lie. Alas he had to be alright, he had no other option. So he forced himself to take a deep breath, deciding that he would he would be okay, no matter what happened tonight.

 

“Alright” Angela said as the driver stepped around the car, opening the door so that Mickey could get in. He stayed standing still for a second, and his managers hand slipped off of his shoulder. “I’ll see you there” Mickey nodded absentmindedly, and then he took the two or three necessary steps, bracing himself before getting into the limo.

 

The car-door slammed shut behind him, and suddenly, for the first time in almost two whole weeks, blue eyes were on green.

 

Somehow, Ian looked even more beautiful now than he had the last time they saw each other. The green color shone somehow, appeared deeper. Or maybe Mickey’s mind was playing tricks on him because he knew that he wasn’t his anymore.

 

Mickey felt his throat snurp shut, his lips immediately drying out. Ian didn't look much more comfortable himself. Mickey’s heart was banging so roughly against his ribcage that he was fairly certain that it was audible - and that the organ could burst out of his body at any moment. It shouldn’t be this awkward, it wasn't as if they had been broken up for a year or so, it was two weeks. Two weeks was nothing.

 

Then again, maybe that’s exactly the reason why they felt like this. Because two weeks was in fact as good as no time at all, and technically they both would need at least two months before they could even think about crawling forwards, away from the ashes their relationship had left behind.

 

The slight thud of the driver side car-door closing reached their ears through the partition, snapping the men out of their daze. Ian let his eyes fall closed for about a second, collecting his senses. His tongue darted out, hoping that the thin layer of saliva on his lips would somehow reactivate his ability to speak.

 

It was difficult, though. Of course it was. Mickey looked fucking beautiful as ever. His hair was gelled up in that special way that he only ever saw at events like these. The suit he had on fit perfectly. Ian wondered how the fuck he had ever been able to take this man for granted. His eyes seemed bigger somehow, even more beautiful than they usually were. Then again, maybe his mind was only playing tricks on him because he knew that Mickey was no longer his.

 

When the limo started moving, Ian finally found his voice, pulling them both out the very last bit until they were in reality again.

 

“I’m uh… I’m sorry about this. It wasn’t my idea, Mick. You know that, right?”

 

Mickey swallowed, forcing his head to move up and down a few times in acknowledgement. He did know that Ian would never suggest something like this. He was also aware of the fact that this was just as difficult for him as it was for himself, so in a way they were in this together even though maybe it didn’t feel like it quite yet.

 

“I don’t even know what the point is” Ian spoke with a low, nervous chuckle. Mickey’s lips were dragged upwards a little bit as well, and suddenly the air inside of the tiny space felt ever so slightly lighter. “It’s… stupid and it only makes…” The younger man trailed off for a second, a small breath escaping his lips. “It only makes… this harder. I’m sorry”

 

Mickey blinked at his ex boyfriend for a second, eyebrows ever so slightly knitted together before he finally shrugged, forcing his lips up into a small smile again, hoping that the act might calm them both down. As difficult as this was, they were together for five whole years. A good five - well, at least four of those years had been all but a fairytale, so it was impossible not to fall into the old rails of being comfortable around each other. And in this particular case, that was nothing but a good thing.

 

“Not your fault” Mickey assured him. “A clean break probably would have been easier but there’s nothing we can do about it now” He stated truthfully. Ian swallowed, looking somehow relieved for a second.

 

The only thing that really filled the rest of the ride was silence, but somehow it wasn’t awkward. They just didn’t really have much to talk about - or at least neither of them could think of any safe topics this soon after their split, odds were almost anything would drag up some memory and they would end up stuck in a silence that was in fact awkward. It was better to stay away from it all.

 

But that didn’t mean that their minds didn’t run.

 

Mickey was turned forwards, hands resting in his lap. His throat still felt swollen, body ever so slightly stiff. Which was to be expected. In approximately ten to fifteen minutes, everybody would see him and Ian together, and they had to make this thing believable. Despite the fact that Mickey was an actor, he was nervous as fuck. The truth was that it would have been so much easier if he and Ian hadn’t already known each other.

 

All of this personal stuff still there between them defiantly effected every single thing about Mickey’s very being. The directions in which his thoughts ran, how he walked, how he talked, how he smiled - everything. And he still wasn’t quite sure as to why he and Ian had to do this. Sure, it would be good press, and it would probably get more people to support him and vice versa. Ian’s fans liked Mickey and Mickey’s fans liked Ian. For the last five years, that’s the way it had been.

 

Mickey guessed that Angela and Tony were completely correct when they suggested that the public wasn’t quite ready to let go of their relationship yet. Satan knows Mickey wasn’t, but he was working on it. Every day.

 

  
As expected, twelve minutes later the car came to a stop, and the men turned to each other, both of them taking their own deep breaths, making sure that they were as relaxed and as natural as possible.

 

“You ready?” Mickey asked, taking a quick look outside of the window before turning back to his ex, a small - slightly nervous although he was trying to hide it - smile stretched across his lips. Ian swallowed, returning the facial expression, head moving slowly up and down a couple of times, assuring Mickey that yes; they were ready.

 

_‘Okay’_ Mickey mentally spoke to himself. Then he turned away from Ian right in time for one of the guards to open his door. As soon as he got out, screams started pouring into his ear, flashes of cameras blinding his vision ever so slightly.

 

That had never been something that he had been very fond of and broken up or not, he was incredibly happy that Ian would be by his side tonight. He’d have to shake that off and learn to do this himself at some point but tonight was not that night.

 

Right when Mickey’s feet hit the carpet, Ian got out of the car as well, both of them painting huge, friendly smiles onto their faces, knowing exactly what their managers wanted of them. The photographers kept yelling, shouting for the men to look right and then left. Thankfully, after so many years of doing things like this, Ian and Mickey had both learned to tune most of that sound out.

 

They both started walking away from the car, Ian easily slipping an arm around his ex’s waist, their heads turning from side to side, posing ever so slightly for a camera before they moved on to the next one, walking the carpet together a well rehearsed dance to the two of them by now.

 

Ian tugged Mickey even closer into his side as they stopped walking, turning their backs facing the background so that the press could get a few more good pictures in. Mickey easily leaned into his ex boyfriend’s hold, for a second letting himself forget about the fact that they technically didn’t have a title anymore. It was easy to pretend that they were back together, and for the moment, that was probably a good thing.

 

It felt natural to be this close again. Good.

 

Mickey stepped even further into Ian’s side, placing a hand by his tie. Ian turned his head, making sure that his mouth ended up against the other man’s temple as he whispered;

 

“Smile, baby” Mickey hadn’t noticed that he had been so wrapped up in his thoughts that his grin had dropped into somewhat of a half smirk. At Ian’s words, though, he quickly wiped it back on, exposing his teeth. The redhead’s mouth pulled into a smile as well, and he dropped a kiss to Mickey’s head before he turned his straight forwards again, giving the cameras some more good shots.

 

The area was crawling with celebrities and reporters by now, people talking all over the place, chattering and interviewing. Ian tugged Mickey even a little bit closer, more than aware of the fact that this was far from his ex’s favorite part of having a high profile.

 

“Ian! Mickey!” They took the few steps necessary to get to the reporter, both of them still baring huge, friendly smiles as the man talked into the microphone, desperate to get some questions in while he had the chance. “You both look great tonight” He spoke before tilting the microphone back towards them.

 

“Thank you, man” Mickey’s head moved slightly up and down in a friendly nod. Ian’s hand was resting safely in the middle of his waist, keeping them both grounded.

 

“What are you most excited about tonight?”

 

“Getting to see everyone. All the performances are always amazing” Ian answered easily, pulling his shoulders up a little bit. When Mickey looked up he spotted his mouth tugged up into that one smile. The one that Ian saved for press and the public. The smile that Mickey got was so much different, so much more powerful. More alive.

 

 

***

 

  
_“What did you just say?” Ian asked, wrapping an arm around Mickey’s neck while backing up so that he was leaning against the kitchen counter and his boyfriend against him. Mickey tilted his head slightly to the side, fighting his absolute hardest not to break out into a grin to match Ian’s._

 

_“I said I fucking love you, jackass. What’s the big deal?” He spoke. “Said it plenty of fucking times” Mickey’s voice was more of a murmur towards the end of the sentence, gaze dropping to Ian’s collarbone._

 

_“Hey” Ian’s free hand was placed under his chin, tilting his head upwards to establish eye contact between the two of them. “I know. Just… love hearing it.” The green eyes were positively sparkling, grin so big that a part of Mickey was scared that his lips would split open._

 

_It was beautiful. He was beautiful._

 

 

***

 

  
Mickey shook the thought. Now was really not the time to take a trip down memory lane.

 

They kept walking, and Mickey took a deep breath, hoping that it didn’t show. His heart was still beating roughly inside of him, but he couldn’t really tell why that was anymore. He was self aware enough to know that he still loved Ian - it would straight up be childish to attempt to ignore that fact. He also knew that his body obviously reacted to that fact, Ian had always had that effect on him.

 

But Mickey also guessed that a part of him just hated this. He had never liked lying, not like this. Not to the world and to the people out there who supported him. Granted they - his fans, although he had always hated using that term - didn’t have any business in his personal life but it still felt wrong somehow.

 

He and Ian had pretended to be happy for a long time, and so when they had finally decided to call them quits, he had been relieved that that part of his life was behind him. Not the part with Ian, but the part with lying, pretending to be something that he wasn’t.

 

Yet here they were, doing the same thing, only worse.

 

 

***

 

 

The next hour or so went by as smoothly as possible. Mickey and Ian didn’t talk all that much to each other, they were too busy saying hello to everybody else. But they made sure that Ian always had an arm around Mickey’s waist, or that their hands were braided together, just small things that would make their act all the more believable. Despite how easy this was in a way - to fall into the same old rails again - obviously things were a little bit tense between them. Not to the point where anybody else would ever be able to tell, but they felt it.

 

The tiny things that they did that were completely unnecessary - the way Mickey’s thumb ran over Ian’s hand, the way Ian squeezed Mickey’s in response. Not to mention Ian’s slip of calling Mickey _‘baby’_ earlier. In some ways, this whole charade was a complete mess, but whenever they would spot Tony or Angela, they seemed happy and for tonight, that would have to be enough, no matter how it made Ian and Mickey feel personally.

 

 

***

 

 

When it was time for Ian to go backstage and prepare for his performance, there was an incredibly awkward moment in between the two. He stood up, their hands slipping apart, and of course out of habit, he was ready to turn around and drop a goodbye kiss to Mickey’s lips. That was taking it too far, though. Way too far. So once he had bent down about halfway, he changed his mind, his lips hitting Mickey’s cheek instead.

 

For some reason, the moment their skin touched, any awkwardness completely disappeared and all that was left was Ian’s sweet gesture - whether it was for show or not, neither of them really knew. A few seconds later when Ian walked away, Mickey’s cheek was still burning, heart throbbing for even more.

 

“Fuck” He cursed to himself, so quietly that even he barely heard it.

 

His eyes drifted over the crowd. The large arena was blue tinted by all of the spotlights, and the noise of people talking - along with the music of whoever was currently performing - was way too loud for Mickey to decipher anything - not that he had much desire to - he was more than okay with letting his brain blend it all into one mess of random loudness.

 

Five minutes after Ian had left him there, Mickey still hadn’t gotten any signs of his heart slowing down. It was consistently slamming against his ribs at a quick pace, and he had a feeling that the fact that his thoughts were absolutely glued to his ex boyfriend might have something to do with that. It was so strange to be here like this - and yet it wasn’t strange at all.

 

Being here with Ian - walking the carpet, holding hands, smiling - it all felt so fucking natural. It was something they had done surely over fifty times together. In fact, every few minutes, Mickey would drift out and completely forget about the fact that this was supposed to be an act. They weren’t really together.

 

And every single time that he drifted back in, his cheeks would start to ache with the need to barf, his heart speeding up even further- in the absolute worst way.

 

  
Ian entered the area behind the stage, the muffled music breaking through the walls ever so slightly. His heart was banging so harshly against his ribcage that he thought it might actually burst out of his body at some point. Being here with Mickey, holding him, kissing him - lips or not - maybe he had overestimated himself when he had assumed that he could get through this.

 

It was so painful to look into those beautiful blue eyes, all the while knowing that that man wasn’t his anymore. Ian knew that Mickey was hurting too and it all added up to one question; _‘Why the fuck did they agree to this?’_

 

While Ian could recognize the fact that staying with Mickey could help their careers, he wondered if it was worth it. Was it worth this hurt, this confusion? This messy breakup? The past two weeks had been good. Sure, of course Ian had spent more time sobbing than he had ever before but in a way he felt like that was okay. That was normal, and it was a good and natural process after a breakup. Their split had been clean cut - painful - but clean. This just made it so fucking messy and complicated.

 

Ian’s mind kept spinning and spinning as he changed out of his suit and into his black skinny jeans. He was incredibly grateful that he wasn’t forced to perform in a jacket and tie, it was so fucking uncomfortable. There was a loud knock at the dressing room door, followed by Tony’s voice;

 

“Ian, you're on in five!”

 

“I’ll be right there!” Ian called back, pulling his t shirt over his body, thankful that he managed to put it on the right way because right now he was so fucking distracted that he wasn’t even sure he would be able to go through his performance without messing up. His favorite leather jacket was pulled on over his arms, and then he turned around, walking out of the room and towards the stage.

 

***

 

As Ian walked out on the stage, the crowd was positively roaring, and Mickey couldn’t help but feel proud despite the fact that they weren’t together anymore. He was so fucking proud of how big Ian was, how many people loved him. He always would be. The fact that they didn’t have a title anymore didn’t mean that Mickey didn’t want Ian to be happy.

 

“Hey” Ian spoke, holding the microphone out in front of himself. His face was slightly flushed red, making him look nervous. More nervous than normal. Mickey knitted his eyebrows together a little bit, swallowing as his ex boyfriend continued talking. “I know that um…” His voice echoed throughout the arena. “I know that I was supposed to sing Circles tonight, but I changed my mind”

 

The words only made Mickey even more confused - if there was one thing that Ian never did it was change the song last minute before a performance like this. It had always been very important to him that everything was right.

 

“So um…” Ian continued after a beat. “This is a song that I finished y - “ He cut himself off, seemingly making eye contact with somebody in the very front row - most likely tony. After a second or two he sighed deeply, his voice ringing over the arena again. “This is a song that I wrote a few months ago; It’s called All I’ve Got”

 

For some unknown reason, Mickey felt himself holding his breath as the music started up. Ian always played his new songs for him - or at least told him whenever he had finished a new one. ‘ _All I’ve Got_ ’ wasn’t a title that he recognized at all, nor did the actual music make any bells ring inside of his head. There was no reason why he wouldn’t know a song that Ian had had for months, and it made more uneasiness appear in the gut of Mickey’s stomach, his eyes starting to sting ever so slightly when Ian opened his mouth and started singing.

 

The song was beautiful - more than beautiful, all of Ian’s songs were, he was an amazing artist - but this wasn’t a song that Ian had written months ago. This was a new one, about their breakup, what they were going through right now.

 

_“I love you all over, only to watch it all end the same”_

 

And if the first few lines hadn’t made that fact register with Mickey, the chorus certainly would have.

 

_“All I’ve got’s a taped up box of old snapshots of you and me”_ Ian sang, his voice shaking ever so slightly as he deliberately avoided looking the way he knew Mickey was seated.

 

Mickey had never really been affected by the songs that Ian wrote about him. Sure, sometimes they made him think about what he had done wrong, and the ones that he had written about how much he loved him surely made his heart flutter. But Mickey had never really felt any of the songs cut quite as deep as this one. Because as Ian continued on, he was in the middle of the crowd, doing his absolute best to keep his tears from spilling over.

 

_“And all I’ve got’s a bunch of songs I can’t put on ‘cause they make me think…”_ Ian’s voice shook more and more with every word, a small tear escaping his eye. His heart was absolutely throbbing against his ribcage, but he knew that he had made the right decision by singing this. Mickey needed to hear this and honestly? Ian needed to sing it to him. Just once.

 

Mickey couldn’t do this, not now. Fuck, why did Ian have to do this? Why couldn’t he just have sang Circles and have had it over with? Then again, hearing the song he had written back when they were at their happiest may have cut deep in a whole other manner.

 

So Mickey stayed seated, hanging on to every single beautiful word coming out of Ian’s mouth, suffering the heart-stabs they brought.

 

_“Of what we were and what went wrong, and how we got to this”_ Mickey forced himself to take a deep breath. In and out. He had to calm down, he couldn’t break down into sobs. Not here, and certainly not now. Although it was incredibly difficult not to. This may be just about the most beautiful song that Ian had ever written, the most touching lyrics Mickey had ever heard.

 

It had been easy - the past hour, pretending that they were some happy couple - but now, with this song, it was all the more clear that they weren’t. The past two weeks had been hell, but maybe in a way Mickey had thought - subconsciously, of course - that this was just another bump in the road. That they could possibly get back together in the future.

 

But as the song continued, all but exposing Ian’s bare bones to Mickey, it was completely crystal clear. This was the end. And in a way, it was nice. Some kind of weight was lifted off of his chest. They were over. Completely over. Finished. And as much as it hurt, that was okay. It felt like… closure.

 

 

Ian swallowed, and suddenly his eyes were on Mickey’s, singing to nobody but him.

 

_“And I try, and I try, but goodbye - is all I’ve got left to give”_

 

 

***

 

 

The rest of the night went just fine, although it somehow felt like even more of a charade after Ian’s performance. They were both very aware of how angry their managers would get if they ended up breaking the act, though so they smiled, they waved and they kept their hands locked together. It was easy enough, and whenever Ian caught Tony’s eye he seemed pleased, so he counted that as a win.

 

Surely their act was good enough that nobody noticed the sort of shift in between the men - no one but them, themselves, of course. Because the second that Ian had stopped singing, something had snapped in between them, became even more finale than it previously had been. And neither of them could seem to figure out whether that was a good thing or not.

 

The drive home was civil and quiet; although it wasn’t an awkward silence, which honestly was strange. Ian would have assumed that his decision to perform ‘All I’ve Got’ would make Mickey pull away from him, become angry or closed off, but they were somehow the same as they had been before the performance - yet not at all.

 

Both of them were facing forwards, eyes on the closed partition, but minds anywhere but.

 

As much as these two weeks had hurt - and god fucking knows they had - Mickey felt a lot more content with their breakup now than he had before tonight. Granted, he knew that there would be nights of sobbing in his future - you didn’t a breakup like that within two weeks, that just wasn’t possible. And his heart still throbbed, sharp stabs appearing every now and then whenever a flash of a memory appeared before his eyes.

 

But ultimately… he felt okay. Considering, at least. So maybe doing this tonight hadn’t been a terrible thing after all. Their managers were happy and Ian and Mickey had both gotten some closure, whether it was spoken or unspoken. Or sung.

 

“That wasn’t so bad” Ian spoke Mickey’s mind when the limousine pulled up outside of the older man’s building. A small, agreeing hum sounded in the base of Mickey’s throat as he closed his hand around the suit jacket he had taken off at some point during the night.

 

“Yeah, no it wasn’t” He nodded a little bit. “See you around?” Their eyes locked as Ian mirrored his ex boyfriend’s previous action.

 

“See you around” Ian agreed, voice only shaking a little bit. Mickey swallowed, turning his body, hand on the door, reading himself to step out of the vehicle. Suddenly, though, felt the need to make sure. “That um…” He begun, turning back to Ian, their eyes falling onto each other’s again, the green color of Ian’s soft, kind. Just like him. “That song…” Mickey’s voice was ever so slightly steadier now, a small smile appearing on his face. “You didn’t write that a few months back, did you?”

 

“No” Ian confirmed Mickey’s justified assumption. “Finished it yesterday” He added then, tongue darting out to wet his own lips in nervousness. “I’m sorry, Mick”

 

Ian was more than aware of the fact that it had been a bit of a dick move to throw the words Mickey’s face like that, especially when they were supposed to be ‘together’. But he hadn’t been able to help himself. He had needed to sing the words, and he had needed for Mickey to hear them. The two of them had always had ups and downs and even the occasional breakup. But this was really and truly it, and they both needed to get as deep into that reality as they could. They couldn’t be holding on to each other, not even a little bit.

 

So Ian had written a song which essentially said ‘I’m done. I can’t do this again with you. I can’t have you coming back in through the door six months from now, if this is it, then this has to truly be it. In the end, goodbye is physically all that I have left to give you’ and yes, it hurt. It had hurt to write it, it hurt to sing it, and it had hurt to see Mickey’s reaction. But it had been necessary.

 

Mickey shook his head, one of his sad smiles still stretched out across his lips.

 

“No, man uh… don’t be” He assured his ex, shrugging a little bit as he attempted to swallow down the lump in his throat. “I liked it - I loved it” His voice wasn’t much more than a whisper, and Ian frowned a little bit.

 

“Really?”

 

“Yeah” Mickey assured him. “And um… I feel the same way. So… goodbye?” He scooted a little bit closer to the door, their eyes still on each other’s as Ian’s heart took a stab. He knew what that meant.

 

Goodbye in this case wasn’t until tomorrow, or until they would maybe see each other at the next event six months from now. This wasn’t a physical goodbye, this was…the Goodbye.

 

Goodbye to the pictures. Goodbye to the memories. Goodbye to the laughs. Goodbye to the kisses. Goodbye to the ‘I love you’s and the ‘Forever’s. Goodbye to the early saturday mornings spent in bed and goodbye to the orgasms that those brought. Goodbye to the hugs, goodbye to the holds. Goodbye to the nuzzles and goodbye to the caresses.

 

Goodbye to this chapter of their lives that felt more like an entire trilogy.

 

This was the goodbye. The goodbye that they both needed to move on.

 

Ian swallowed, both pairs of eyes welling up with tears. Mickey’s throat felt as if it was completely dried up, vocal chords knotted. This was it. Really and truly it. Finally, Ian managed the word - his voice was shaking, vibrating with sadness, but he pushed the sound out past his lips;

 

“Goodbye”

 

 

***

 

 

That night, Ian was sitting up in bed, completely unable to go to sleep. His eyes were stinging with drying tears and the sheets in his bed smelled too much like Mickey. He had had them washed time and time again since the split, but somehow that comforting scent - that shouldn’t still be comforting - remained. He was smart enough to realize that it was probably all in his head, but he couldn’t do anything about it.

 

So instead of rolling over to the side that was no longer occupied and burying his face in the pillow - he had done that way too often in the past two weeks, and he honestly found himself pathetic for it - he was lazily scrolling through his phone, hoping that it would somehow tire him out.

 

Ian made sure to avoid anything having to do with instagram, he was more than aware of all of the pictures on is account displaying Mickey - not that he needed any more reminders, his head was still swarming with thoughts of his love. And thanks to Tony, he and Mickey couldn’t make their breakup public for another day or two, so he couldn’t exactly go in and delete any of the photos. Not that he believed that he would ever have the strength to.

 

So instead he was scrolling through his twitter; although he realized pretty soon that twitter wasn’t much better for avoiding reminders of Mickey. His phone was completely having a seizure, buzzing with tweets from his fans.

 

_I wish I could have a relationship like @IanGallagher and @MMilkovich! Ugh, they always seem so happy._

_@IanGallagher was literally perfection tonight. @MMilkovich didn’t look too bad either._

_THaT whisper!!! Ugh I want to know what @IanGallagher said, I bet it was something so sweet! Oh my god, I can’t handle this cuteness, they’re so perfect!_

_@MMilkovich and @IanGallagher looked more in love than ever tonight. And that whisper in Mickey’s ear ugh, fucking relationship goals._

_@IanGallagher so when are you proposing? lmao_

_Ian and Mickey are so fucking sweet together, I can’t take this. They need to stay together forever and ever and ever and ever @MMilkovich @IanGallagher_

_Oh, just get married already @IanGallagher @MMilkovich_

 

Finally, Ian did gather up the self control to close the app along with his phone, putting the device down onto his nightstand.

 

With tears pouring down his face and a butcher knife stabbing him in the gut over and over, he finally gave in to the only thing he knew could make him feel even a fraction better; he laid down, rolling over to Mickey’s side of the bed, his face deep down into his pillow, pretending that Mickey was really there.

 

***

 

What woke Mickey up the next morning was the stubborn sound of his phone vibrating against the flat, wooden surface of his nightstand. His chance to breathe was somewhat limited since his face was pressed deep down into the pillow that had once upon a time been Ian’s. It smelled like him. His arms were folded, hands tucked underneath, palms flat against the mattress as he joined the land of the living again.

 

A loud, thrumming pain was ever present inside of his head, scolding him for consuming that half of a bottle of Jack last night. Mickey wasn’t one to lean very heavily on alcohol, but sometimes he just couldn’t help himself. Last night had been one of those times. Being that close to Ian again, hugging him, holding him, talking to him - fuck, just even looking at him - it had all been so overwhelming after everything that they had gone through in the past few weeks.

 

They had had a good split - a clean split - having to pretend to be dating, even just for a few hours had messed all of that up. He should have just said no, stood his ground, but now it was way too late and his heart was hurting way more than before. Fuck, why did he get himself into these situations? And why did whoever was calling him just not giving up?

 

A loud, low groan rolled in the base of his throat as he flipped himself over onto his back, reaching out to grab his phone, pressing it against his ear.

 

“Hello” His voice was so rough that he could just barely recognise it as his own, but at the moment he couldn’t bring himself to give a shit.

 

“I’m outside, let me in” His manager’s voice rang through the line. Mickey held himself back from groaning again; if there was one thing he was currently not interested in, it was seeing Angela. Or anybody at all for that matter. He just wanted to wallow in self pity today - and maybe finish off that bottle of Jack that was standing on his kitchen island. “I brought Advil”

 

Mickey swallowed; Ang knew him like the back of her hand by now, and it was currently bothering the absolute fuck out of him. In any case, the more he woke up, the worse his headache seemed to become so he didn’t have much of a choice other than to hang up the phone and somehow force himself out of bed to go answer the door.

 

“There you are” Angela entered the dreary, morning lit penthouse; a sigh escaping Mickey’s lips as he closed the door once again, following her over to the kitchen. They didn’t say anything to each other for a few minutes, it wasn’t really necessary. Mickey swallowed once more, attempting to get rid of the dry, singing feeling in his throat as he sank down onto one of the barstools.

 

He placed his forehead against his open palm, trying to mentally force the pain in his head to go away - it didn’t work. Angela placed a few bags up onto the skinny, rectangular kitchen island before wrapping her hand around the neck of the open whiskey bottle, frowning as she turned around to face the kitchen sink. A glugging noise filled Mickey’s ears as she emptied the alcohol down, he didn’t even have the energy to fight her on it.

 

One the glass bottle was washed, she turned back around, pushing a large cup of black coffee in front of Mickey’s face, emptying an Advil or two out onto the counter as well. Mickey thanked her with a small grunt, and she observed him as he swallowed down the pain pills.

 

“Here” The short brunette woman spoke then, pushing the small, white paper bag over to him, the scent of bear-claws filling his nose. “It’ll soak up the last of it” The hot coffee poured down Mickey’s throat, bringing the pills with it as he looked up at her, a small line between his eyebrows.

 

“What do you want?” It wasn’t that Angela wasn’t a person who did things for him out of the kindness of her heart, she was. But coffee, Advils and bear-claws? There had to be something he was missing here. And he was right, because with that question, a deep sigh escaped her lips; she placed her hands flat onto the countertop, looking at him, seemingly struggling to build up the courage needed to tell Mickey about whatever was going on.

 

“People really liked you and Ian last night…” She begun. Mickey’s frown deepened.

 

The truth was that he hadn’t yet found the courage to look on any kind of social media platform, and he wasn’t even sure why. Maybe it was because he was scared that their performance hadn’t been believable enough, but the more likely possibility was that he was terrified that it had been too convincing - and therefor he would end up seeing a bunch of tweets, gushing about how good they were together. If hearing Ian’s new song hadn’t torn Mickey up enough - that surely would.

 

“A lot of people… around…” She continued, quite obviously referring to the people above her. The people who had the most power over Mickey’s career. “They think that um… they think that maybe it would be best if last night wasn’t… the end of that” It took Mickey a second to catch on, but when he did, his lips parted, every single finer of his body screaming ‘No!’. Before he could verbally object, though, Angela continued. “Nothing is set in stone, alright, Mickey? But um… You’re gonna come with me and we’re gonna have a meeting with Ian and Tony, try to figure all of this out”

 

“But I don’t - “

 

“Mickey” Angela’s voice was loud, firm. Maybe it was the fact that she had never really raised her voice at Mickey before, or maybe it was that she had always been sort of like a mother to him - either way, he found himself swallowing, his head moving up and down in agreement despite the fact that his entire body was throbbing in annoyance. A meeting. He could do that.

 

 

***

 

 

“No! Are you fucking kidding me?!” In the car-ride over to Tony’s office, Angela had reminded Mickey over and over again how important it was for him to keep his mouth shut. _‘The more you scream, the less they’ll listen’_. It was one of her favorite phrases to use, and as much as Mickey agreed, keeping calm was just not a possibility right now.

 

Mickey had been okay with last night; going to an event together because it hadn’t been the right time to announce their split - it had seemed rational. But this? He understood how all of this worked, he knew that it hadn’t been Tony’s idea - or Angela’s, but he couldn’t help to be pissed with the managers anyway, because they seemed to do nothing but agree with the idea - at least professionally.

 

A year. Not one night, not a week, not a month or six; they wanted him and Ian to sign a contract to ‘stay together’ for a whole fucking year. By then, Mickey had at least hoped to have moved on, but there was an absolute zero percent chance of that ever happening if he had to see the younger man on a regular basis. Not to mention, come on his tour?

 

He couldn’t do this - they couldn’t do this. While it did make some sort of sense - since people would undoubtedly pick their sides when they found out that the men had broken up. ‘Staying together’ would surely keep their careers and bank-accounts stable, so in a way Mickey did understand where all of this was coming from.

 

The idea wasn't pointless, not at all - not from a professional view point. Ian’s album was on its way out, and Mickey’s latest movie was wrapping up, surely the amount money they would make would decrease if the breakup was made public. But at the same time Mickey didn’t care about the money - either way he would have so much more than he could count, the same went for Ian. The people above them, though, they did care. And Mickey knew that. Because less money for him meant less money for them.

 

But while he understood all of this, he couldn’t help but feel like a puppet. A robot. Mickey was a real human being. Despite his money, or his fame, or his fans - he had feelings. He was a human being and he knew for a fact that from an emotional aspect, being around Ian was the absolute worst thing for him right now. And he didn’t doubt that the same thing went for his ex boyfriend.

 

Ian and Mickey needed to be apart right now, but they only seemed to be forced into situations where they were anything but.

 

“Mickey” Angela warned at his objection. Mickey turned his head to look at his manager, his eyebrows knitted together as he swallowed, silently apologizing for the outburst. But he couldn’t help it. He didn’t want to do this - he couldn’t do this.

 

Larson started explaining further, but Mickey tuned him out. He couldn’t listen to this, he knew exactly what the man was going to say anyway. And it wasn’t fair. Mickey’s - and Ian’s - health and happiness shouldn’t have to be put on the line just for a few extra bucks. It didn’t make much sense.

 

Ian didn’t say much; his arms were crossed in front of his body where he stood by Tony’s side, his head dipped, gaze focused on the worn out chucks covering his feet. Mickey couldn’t help but swallow as he looked at the top of his ex boyfriend’s head. He still loved him, of course he did. And it still hurt - every day - of course it did. It had only been a few weeks since their split, after all. But that was the reason why they couldn’t do this. Love aside - they couldn't be together. Which was why they had to make an effort to be anything but, no matter how hard it was turning out to be after sharing a life for so long.

 

Mickey was smart enough to realize how much more complicated this would make things. It wasn’t a good idea - not in the long-run.

 

“I gotta get some fucking air” Mickey cut Larson off in the middle of one of the sentences that nobody seemed to be listening to, and he turned around, walking straight out of the office, bouncing down the few staircases as fast as he possible could, his heart banging against his ribcage. This was all too much; he had just barely handled last night with his head held high, the thought of doing something like that several times a month? He just couldn’t. His throat felt as if it was closing up.

 

Soon, he was outside of the building, and he stopped walking. He clenched his eyes closed, forcing himself to take three deeps breaths, practically praying to god that the act would succeed in calming him down. Mickey wished oh so badly that he knew what to make of all of this. The truth was that as difficult as he knew it would be, he wasn’t as blind to the obvious benefits as he wished he was. There were some benefits - good ones, big ones - but was that worth all of the confusion and further heartbreak that this arrangement would undoubtedly bring them both?

 

“Mick!” Mickey tightened his eyes, making the blackness even darker. He couldn’t take this, not now. He needed to be alone. “Mick!” Ian yelled again; Mickey was turned away from the door, but he could hear it close, leaving them both alone in the dead street.

 

“You don’t fucking get to talk!” Mickey cursed as he turned around, meeting the sad, green eyes. Ian swallowed, lifting a hand to the top of his head, tugging at the roots as he quite obviously was having a hard time in figuring out exactly what to say to his ex boyfriend.

 

“Look, this wasn’t my - “

 

“I know!” Mickey stayed, voice still raised quite a bit as he got ready to unleash all hell on the taller man. “I know that this wasn’t your fucking idea, but I also know that you are the fucking boss - people listen to you, Ian!” Mickey spoke more than truthfully.

 

Ian had always had a certain way with words, even when he wasn’t trying. So while this entire charade may not have been his idea to begin with, the truth was that he probably would have been able to stop it.

 

“And you know damn well, that if you would have said no - they would have said okay” Ian stayed silent, probably expecting even more yelling, but it didn’t come. Mickey had said what he needed to. The truth was that Mickey had a feeling that Ian wasn’t all that against this concept - maybe he was even for it. Ian had always had an easier time lying to the public eye than Mickey did - not that it made much sense seeing as one of them was an actor, and it wasn’t Ian.

 

“Okay” Ian finally sighed, their eyes on each other’s. Mickey could detect a small crack in his voice, and as much as he tried to deny it, he could feel it in his heart. That’s how connected they were, broken up or not. “Yeah, I… I didn’t say no. Because…” The pause Ian took lasted for a few seconds longer than what Mickey was comfortable with, but finally; “I… I think that it could be a good idea.”

 

Mickey tore the eye contact apart, a loud, tired chuckle escaping his mouth as his gaze flew around the empty street before finally landing back onto the green orbs that he had once felt himself able to get lost in. Ian swallowed, continuing;

 

“Look, your movie’s all wrapped up, right? My tour kicks next week, if you come, it would…” The taller man trailed off for a second, and a small sigh escaped Mickey’s nose as he for once actually listened to the words coming out of the mouth that he was currently so fucking angry with. “Look, it’s not just my career it would be good for. We’d both get good press. So… please?”

 

Mickey knew Ian well enough to understand that he actually wasn’t all too happy with this idea either - he was just making the best out of the situation, it was who he was. And that quality was something that Mickey had always admired. He also knew that if they both refused to sign that contract, then all hell would break loose. Not legally or anything, of course, but people higher up would surely be unhappy with their decision.

 

So taking both of their displeasure into consideration - and the fact that going on tour with Ian may get Mickey some extra free time, no matter how counterproductive it sounded; the last time he had gone was a little over a year ago and the truth was that Ian was always so busy on the road that Mickey had to entertain himself. It was actually kind of peaceful, because whenever they stopped, they always seemed to be in some new beautiful place in the country. Ex boyfriend point aside, Mickey liked following Ian on tour. - Mickey finally sighed;

 

“Fuck. Fine, alright”

 

 

***

 

 

Mickey and Ian let their managers deal with the rest; neither of them had the energy. Six days later, the contracts were signed and there was no going back. The night before they were due to leave for the tour, Mickey was standing in the bedroom of his penthouse, looking down at his half-packed suitcase. He told himself that he was trying to make sure that he wasn’t forgetting anything, when really, the view just brought back old memories.

 

 

***

 

  
_“Wait, wait, wait. Man, why the fuck are you bringing a hairbrush?” Mickey’s eyebrows were furrowed as he came out of the bathroom, his right hand closed around a plastic bag containing their toothbrushes. His boyfriend was bent over his bed, trying desperately to cram a hairbrush into their already stuffed suitcase. At Mickey’s voice, though, he straightened up and turned around, looking at him._

 

_“So that I can brush my hair” Ian stated as if Mickey was a complete idiot. Mickey fought the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth; he then took a step forwards, reaching a hand up towards the taller man’s temple, his fingertips brushing the red strands._

 

_“You barely have any” He spoke, and Ian rolled his eyes._

 

_“Baby, you don’t want to know what this shit looks like when I don’t brush it, alright?” He said, gesturing up towards his head. Mickey’s tongue darted out to wet his bottom-lip, eyes flickering down towards Ian’s._

 

_“I think I do, actually” He said, taking a step closer towards his boyfriend so that he could reach behind him and grab the device, throwing it over his own shoulder. Instead of being upset, Ian just grinned down at his silly man, shaking his head slightly from side to side as he dipped down, their lips hovering inches apart._

 

_“You’re such a dick” Mickey joined in, chuckling, nodding in agreement right before their lips met and they moved onto something much less childish._

 

 

***

 

  
Mickey let out a small, barely audible gasp as the sound of his phone ringing tore him off of memory lane. With one last look at the half-empty suitcase, he walked over to his nightstand, accepting the call without checking what name was flashing on the screen.

 

_“Are you finished packing?”_ Mickey sighed at Ian’s voice - had he known it was him he doubted that he would have picked up. The truth was that while he had had every right in the world to say no to this stupid contract thing, he still kind of blamed Ian for all of it. While maybe that wasn’t too fair, he couldn’t help it.

 

“Almost” He stated dryly. “Why the fuck are you calling me, man?” Pause. “Still pissed at you” Mickey knew why Ian was calling him; no reason. After five years of being together, they could read each other like open books - children’s books. Ian had wanted to take Mickey’s temperature for tomorrow, see if he was ragingly furious or just kind of annoyed.

 

_“I know”_ Ian stated. _“You have a right to be, I guess”_ He added after a beat. Mickey swallowed. It felt so fucking weird to be having his voice pouring into his ear after going such a seemingly long time without talking to him.

 

Mickey also had a feeling that they were ex boyfriends, alone, on the phone with each other on a late night. They were kind of on the rocks, not sure how to act or feel around each other anymore. Taking all of that into consideration, he knew that if they didn’t hang up soon, this could easily end up going somewhere that wasn’t too healthy for them. So he swallowed, forcing the words out of his mouth.

 

“Yeah. I do. But um… I should finish… dealing with this. See you tomorrow” Mickey hung up before Ian could reciprocate, praying to god that this would all go over smoothly.

 

 

***

 

 

The next morning, Mickey was exhausted after having been laying awake all night, tossing and turning, worrying about how this all would end up turning out. He was completely silent, staring out the passenger side window of Angela’s car as she drove him towards where Ian’s tour bus would start from. The truth was that Mickey wasn’t all that worried about the events, or the press. He wasn’t worried about Ian’s concerts or what their managers would think.

 

No, none of that worried Mickey. What he was scared of though, was what would happen in that bus. They would be moving for hours at a time, and while it was a nice bus with several rooms, in a way, Ian and Mickey would still be crammed together. Mickey wasn’t scared of fighting, he was scared of something much worse happening. Something that would undoubtedly set them back in their process of moving on from each other.

 

Alas, there was literally nothing that Mickey could do about it now. The contracts were signed, and the bus was leaving within the hour. No matter how much Mickey was regretting his decision by now, he just had to keep his tongue tied. He wasn’t sure why exactly he had ended up saying yes, to be honest. He guessed that it was possible that it had something to do with those deep, beautiful green eyes staring into his own as he had been begged for it. Neither of them wanted to do this, of course. Not even Ian. Ian was just the kind of person that obeyed a lot - not because he was weak or shy, but because he just flat out despised feuds.

 

A loud sigh escaped Mickey’s lips, his temple rested against the tinted glass of the car window as he watched the city soar by in a flash. If he was being honest, people had it a fuck of a lot worse than he did, so maybe he was being a brat complaining about all of this. But knowing that, he couldn’t help feeling as if his heart was being ripped out whenever he thought about Ian. It made sense, he supposed. Five years was a long time.

 

 

***

 

  
_Once the condom was disposed of, Ian took a deep breath and rolled closer to his boyfriend, wrapping his arms around his body. The layer of sweat and grime covering them made their skin stick together a little bit, but neither of them care one single bit. Mickey just leaned into the embrace, burying his face in the crook of the taller man’s neck, breathing in his comforting scent, wondering how the fuck he had gone so many years of his life without having this - without having Ian._

 

_He felt Ian move his head a little bit, just enough that he could drop a soft kiss to the black hair, doing his best to tug him even a little bit closer, holding him, protecting him. Sleep was starting to creep closer to Mickey, his stomach still buzzing in that special way that it always did when he was with Ian - or when he just thought about Ian. Or when Ian was mentioned. In fact, Mickey doubted that the butterflies had died down one single bit since the moment five months ago when he had met the man. Not that he ever wanted them to._

 

_“I want to have this forever” The words were muttered into the black, sweaty strands; and for a second Mickey wondered whether his boyfriend had been able to read his mind. The shorter man swallowed, lifting his head so that he could look down into the green eyes, feeling as if he could get lost in them._

 

_“Us?” Ian nodded, unwrapping his right arm from around Mickey’s body so that he could reach up and place a slightly cupped hand against the side of his face. Mickey swallowed, leaning into the touch, his eyes fluttering closed._

 

_“You and me. Forever” Ian spoke, quite blown away by how fucking beautiful Mickey was. His face was flushed, along with his neck and chest, his lips slightly parted, a soft sigh escaping them at the words, right before his eyes opened again, connecting with Ian’s._

 

_“Forever” Mickey repeated._

 

 

***

 

 

  
Mickey wiped a small tear away, right as Angela pulled in next to the bus. Even though she obviously wasn’t coming on tour, she had been kind enough to drive him there. While Mickey did appreciate it, he hadn’t quite forgiven her just yet. The truth was that he went kind of back and forth between being angry - at Angela, at Ian, at Tony, at everyone and at everything - and just sighing and feeling as at peace as he possibly could considering the circumstances - which still wasn’t very.

 

“You’re okay from here, right?” Angela asked, her left hand still on the steering wheel as she held her phone with her right one, scrolling through something. Mickey gave her nothing more than a grunt in response before he got out and closed the door a little bit harder than what was necessary. He sighed, running a hand over his face as he walked to the trunk, popping it open and getting his suitcase out.

 

Once Angela heard the trunk being slammed closed, she pulled away, probably hurrying to some meeting she was late for. Mickey forced himself to take two, and then three deep breaths, collecting himself. He really had virtually no idea how this all would end up. In a year, where would he and Ian be? Would they be enemies? Would they be back together? Either of those were possible, but none were healthier than just completely staying away from each other completely - something that would now be completely impossible to do. They may not be on tour for the entire next year, but they would still have to keep this charade up.

 

“Thanks” Mickey spoke at the guy who took his bag, heading around the large bus to put it away for him. He took a deep breath, and then finally started walking up the stairs, into the vehicle, doing his best to keep himself from completely freaking out over whatever was to come.

 

“Hey” Ian greeted him, quite obviously a little bit nervous as well. He had his own part of the bus cut off from all of the other people on it - Tony, the drivers, the assistants, etcetera. It was almost like his own apartment, although really fucking tiny, of course. There was a small kitchen, a few benches. In the next room there was a bed and a few sofas. Mickey wasn’t unfamiliar with the bus at all, he had been here many times before. Just… not like this. He had never been sad or insecure, or unsure about how he should act around his ex boyfriend, because he had always gone on tour with his boyfriend.

 

Mickey pulled the door closed behind himself, shielding them both from the morning sun. Ian was standing over by the stove in a pair of grey sweatpants and a white wifebeater - most likely he had slept on this bus last night so that he wouldn’t have to drag himself up quite as early as Mickey had been forced to do. Something was popping in the pan, and it smelled as if Ian was cooking eggs, or maybe even bacon.

 

“Hi” Mickey finally pushed the word out of his mouth. He was well aware of the fact that if these coming weeks were going to be at all manageable, then he would be best off not holding a grudge against Ian. The truth was that Ian really wasn’t to blame for anything whatsoever, other than just going along with this idea. Mickey just needed somebody to be angry at, other than himself.

 

“Have you, um…” Ian spoke then, gaze shifting down towards the pan. “Have you had any breakfast yet?”

 

“No” Mickey said, sliding the leather jacket off of his own shoulders and dropping it over a chair, leaving him in one of his favorite black henley's. “It smells good” He stated then, immediately regretting the word choice.

 

 

***

 

  
_Mickey groaned, hearing some parts of his body pop as he stretched out, feeling his rested mind being at peace. He was somewhat aware of the movement of the bus, getting them closer and closer towards whatever city Ian was playing in tonight. He sighed deeply, forcing himself to sit up, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed before he reached up, using his right hand to rub some of the sleep out of his eyes._

 

_Mickey’s eyebrows knitted together slightly; the bedroom door was open a little less than halfway, and he could hear the slight popping of something cooking in a pan at a high temperature. A small smile was spread out over his face as he stood up, making his way out into the kitchen._

 

_Ian was standing, flipping over what looked like an egg, or maybe two. Nothing was covering his body expect for a thin pair of boxers, and the red hair on top of his head was nothing if not the definition of bedhead. Mickey’s tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip as he made his way over, wrapping his arms safely around Ian’s waist, feeling the warm skin under his. A low sound between a hum and a chuckle sounded in the base of the taller man’s throat as he leaned back into the touch, his eyes falling closed with Mickey dropped a slow, meaningful kiss to the back of his neck._

 

_“It smells good”_

 

 

***

 

  
By the sadness that flashed by Ian’s face, Mickey would guess that the very same memory came to his mind as well. They both forced themselves to shake it off, though, something that Mickey was very thankful for.

 

“Good. It’s done” Ian spoke, using a spatula to flip two eggs onto a plate along with a few strips of bacon. “There’s coffee, if you want it” He said then, handing the food to his ex boyfriend.

 

“Thanks” Mickey nodded, graciously accepting the plate. Neither of them said much after that; the next five or ten minutes consisted of them both pouring some coffee into their cups and then sitting down opposite of each other on the large bench - or maybe it was a windowsill, but Mickey had always called it a bench since it was so wide - their shoulders leaning against the glass, feet slightly touching, slipped in between one another’s as they started eating.

 

They both stayed silent as they felt the bus start to move underneath them. Oddly enough, though, despite how tense the air had felt when Mickey had entered the vehicle, now it wasn’t so much an awkward kind of silence as a ‘I don’t really have all that much to say’ kind of silence. It felt… well, not good, of course - but okay.

  
  
Mickey swallowed down a gulp of the coffee, and then he looked up, meeting the green eyes. Yeah. As strange as it was - for the first time in what felt like forever, things were okay.

 

***

 

The bus continued moving, and the day along with it. Ian and Mickey still didn’t talk all that much. It wasn’t that Mickey was angry anymore, he had decided to let it go by now, since the truth was that whether Ian had gone along with this whole charade or not, it actually, in fact, had not been his idea to begin with. And now they were in the same boat, so if Mickey was going to be angry with Ian, he might as well be angry with himself as well. And all of that would take up way too much energy. He’d rather use that energy for something a lot more productive.

 

Like reading scripts - which was what he was doing an hour or so after breakfast as the tourbus took them closer and closer to Virginia. Mickey’s head was tilted slightly to the side, lips parted as the base of his laptop warmed his legs. He was sitting in the chair in the bedroom, feet tucked up underneath his own body as he scrolled past page after page, silently reading and slowly but surely starting to understand this new character that he was up for in a few months.

 

Throwing himself into his job had always been something that had helped him through difficult or confusing times in his life, Ian was the same way. Which was probably why Mickey could hear the silent guitar strumming through the door that was cracked open. Ian’s voice blended in with the sound; Mickey heard him quietly hum the words to ‘Love’. The blue eyes stayed on the laptop screen as he swallowed, mentally slipping out into the other room.

 

‘ _Love_ ’ wasn’t a super emotional song for the two of them, and Mickey was happy that he hadn’t started playing ‘ _Dance in the Rain_ ’ or some other song that would immediately make them both break down into tears. This aside, though, of course hearing Ian sing made Mickey a little bit emotional. It probably always would.

 

The lowly hummed words traveled in through the door, reaching Mickey’s ears perfectly.

 

_“Love, how many times can a heart break? Love, how much weight can a soul take?”_ Mickey’s eyes were still focused on the computer screen, but he wasn’t there at all. Instead he was listening to every single word, every single syllable, perfectly drinking his ex’s voice in. Ian made it to _“Love, I don’t know where you ran off to”_ Before Mickey started to feel his eyes start to sting anyway, his throat starting to close up.

 

It was natural, he assumed. To mourn a relationship - a person, whether they were dead or alive - for quite a long time after something had ended. Mickey normally didn’t like to be the emotional one in his personal life, he got to do that enough at work. But he also had to admit that in this situation, he didn’t have much of a choice. No matter how many times he told himself that all of his tears were shed, and no matter how many times he claimed to himself that he was well on track to getting over Ian, he couldn’t change the fact that this hurt. Splitting from Ian was more painful than that time Iggy had accidentally slit his shoulder open when they were kids.

 

What was even more confusing was the fact that they didn’t really have one solid and socially acceptable reason for doing it. _‘We weren’t happy’_ wouldn’t really go over with their fans whenever they would be allowed to reveal the fact that they were no longer together. The public would want something like ‘Mickey abused Ian’ or ‘Ian cheated on Mickey’. Something - anything - that would make a good and strong headline.

 

To this day, Mickey still wasn’t sure how he felt about the breakup himself. But he did know that there was a part of him that was happy for it. Happy that he no longer had to spend his time making sure that Ian was content and happy. That he could finally just… be himself and be alone. He knew that Ian felt the exact same way. And even if there was a tiny part of them that would want to be back together someday - and there was. Of course there fucking was. They were head over heels for each other for five fucking years, there would never not be a part of them that wondered _‘What if?’_ \- they knew that they couldn’t and they shouldn’t.

 

Because say that Mickey were to open that door right now and walk out into the kitchen; he could lift Ian’s guitar off of his lap and place himself there instead. What would happen? Mickey knew exactly what would happen if he did that. They would kiss and make up and whisper how fucking sorry they were and how much they loved each other. They would fuck and they would laugh and they would cry. But they would be back together, and they would be happy.

 

Mickey knew that if he were to decide on that right now, all of that was all of twenty seconds away. And sure, maybe they would end up being happy for another five years, but ultimately - in the end, they would be back at square one. They could both go without reliving this again. So that’s the answer why Mickey wouldn’t give into his urge to kiss Ian right here and right now. Because when they broke up again, he would have moved backwards and not forwards. They both would have. It was best to stay away from it all. Stay away from each other. Emotionally if it wasn’t possible to do it physically.

 

 

***

 

 

They spent the rest of the day on the bus like that; Mickey sitting in a chair, looking over the new scripts that he had been sent while Ian continued working as well. Sometimes he was strumming on the guitar, sometimes he was just singing, and sometimes he was just sitting with a pen and paper, most likely coming up with some new pieces of lyric to fit with the music. The truth was that it wasn’t all too different from how their days on the bus used to be back when they had actually been together. Actually, Mickey caught himself several times, forgetting that they actually weren’t anymore.

 

“Mick?”

 

“Yeah?” Mickey answered his ex boyfriend’s calling without thinking anything of it; no matter how confusing things may be between them at this point, simple and small everyday things and habits was probably something that wouldn’t leave them for a long time. Ian didn’t say anything back for ten seconds or so, so Mickey finished the last paragraph of the script and then he stood up, leaving the computer on the bed before entering the kitchen.

 

Ian was sitting on the window-seat, feet placed firmly on the floor. His guitar was resting safely against his stomach, one hand on the neck while he was using his right one to write words down onto a paper; his eyebrows were knitted. Pulled together in a way that Mickey after all these years could easily interpret as his song writing frown.

 

“You need me to listen to something?” Mickey asked, just as easily. Alone in a bus - well, alone in this closed off part of the bus, that was - it was quite easy to slip back into old habits. Even if they were small ones, like finishing each other’s sentences, or guessing what the other one wanted. Neither of them paid it much attention, though. As long as they stayed away from kissing - or any other kind of intimate touching - Mickey figured that this was alright. It would take a lot of energy to try to stay out of each other’s way in this tiny ‘apartment’. He’d rather have the stay go smoothly so that he could spend said energy on better things. 

  
“Uh… yeah” Ian mumbled, eyes still on the piece of paper as he finished the last word of something; then he looked up. “I um… It’s not really my usual style so I don’t know if I should go through with making it into something” Mickey shrugged, sitting down on one of the little chairs in the middle of the cramped room, silently assuring Ian that he could play it.

 

Ian had always felt incredibly comfortable with playing his new songs to Mickey, and Mickey knew this. Whether they were currently broken up or not, he had always and would always give Ian his honest opinion. Sure, after five years and over a hundred songs, of course there were a few that put him in somewhat of a poor light, but Mickey had never let it bother him. Ian needed to express himself, and it was good music. He would never be upset over a song, or call it bad just because it hurt to hear Ian’s inner and deep thoughts.

 

“Alright” Ian nodded a little bit, swallowing as he went back to the paper, adding a little something before he finally let go of the pen and moved his hands back to the instrument, starting to get ready to play. Mickey tilted his head slightly to the side, waiting the few seconds it took Ian to start the song.

 

As soon as he did, Mickey was amazed. More than usual. Just like Ian had said, it wasn’t the kind of music he normally would play. In fact, take away the acoustic guitar and the slight southern accent that Ian put on when he sang, and Mickey doubted that it could even be classified as country. But he liked it; it was a really good fucking song. Ian tilted his head a little bit backwards, eyes closed as the lyrics poured from his lips.

 

_“I’d take a vow of silence, wouldn’t say a single word”_ His mouth hugged the words perfectly. _“Until you really heard”_ He was silent for a few seconds after that line, not a single sound save for the strumming of the guitar filling the room until the started singing the chorus. _“If I were sorry; I’d run a thousand miles. Wouldn’t stop until I dropped. Wouldn’t take a break to breathe until I got close enough”_

 

Mickey hung onto every single word, head staying slightly tilted to the side as he watched his ex sing the words that he most likely wished that he had the courage to speak. His lips were slightly parted; he was completely amazed at how good the song was. Usually when Ian tried a little bit of a different style, he wouldn’t be all too keen on it, but this one was… fucking great. It might even be the best one that Ian had written in quite a while.

 

_“But I’m not sorry. No”_ Ian finished, his adams-apple bopping up and down a time or two before he let his eyes slide open, blue eyes falling onto green as the younger man silently asked what Mickey thought. Mickey swallowed, his perfectly arched eyebrows raising slightly as a chuckle fell out from in between his lips. Ian always knew that that was a good sign. That chuckle. It’s as if Mickey was saying ‘What the fuck do you need me to listen to this shit for? It’s amazing, how could you possibly doubt yourself on that?’

 

“It’s… it’s fucking great, man. I love it” Mickey stated, making a small smile appear on Ian’s lips, their eyes staying locked on each other’s. For a tenth of a second, it was as if they had traveled two years back in time; both of them had the same thought spinning around in their heads. It would feel so fucking amazing to be able to kiss right now. To have their hands on each other - just one last time.

 

“Guys” They were ripped out of the moment, though, by Tony storming in through the inside door separating Ian’s ‘apartment’ from the rest of the bus. A black fedora was sitting on top of his head, slightly tilted to the side, covering the top part of his long, lightly grey washed hair. “Five minutes, alright? Ian, then you have to go in there. It’s two hours until the show” He spoke in that sure way that he only did when he really needed Ian to listen; it was very different from the way that he spoke when they had a moment between brothers rather than a moment between manager and artist.

 

“We got it” Mickey spoke easily, looking outside of the large window behind Ian’s head. They had been so held up in their own little world all day that they hadn’t noticed when the bus had stopped moving, most likely at least fifteen minutes ago. Now they were standing outside of the arena that Ian was supposed to perform inside of tonight, the low, muffled sounds of the fans screaming on the other side of it reaching Mickey’s ears even inside of the bus.

 

“Great. Oh - and, there’s a few fans and some cameras littered around the back entrance too, so try to look like a couple, alright?” Tony trailed off, gesturing weakly in between the men, who immediately nodded, Ian voicing his agreement with a hum.

 

Once the older man had left Ian and Mickey alone again, Ian placed his guitar back into the case, and Mickey stood up, both of them readying themselves to put on a little bit of a show.

 

***

 

There weren’t any more than twenty or thirty people spread out around the back entrance of the arena, so Ian was able to take a few selfies and sign a couple of CDs. Two of his body guards followed Ian, Mickey and Tony into the building at the same time, and whenever Ian wasn’t writing his autograph on something, his hand was interlaced with Mickey’s, a comfortable warmth settled in between their palms. Their fingers locked together just as perfectly as they always had, and Mickey had to force himself to remember that this all wasn’t real. It couldn’t be and it shouldn’t be. This was no different than a day at work.

 

***

 

The next hour or so consisted of Ian being ushered around. Changing clothes, practicing his songs, talking about exactly how the show was going to go down on this particular night. Mickey decided not to follow him around the way that he sometimes did. He just wasn’t really feeling it. Instead he was sitting on one of the couches in the back, finishing the script that he had to have read by tomorrow afternoon. People ran past him constantly, but he wasn’t all too bothered by that fact.

 

***

 

The night rolled on, and while Ian spent it performing, talking to fans and god knows what else, Mickey stayed on that couch. One reason was that he did indeed have scripts to read and emails to answer, but of course it was difficult to pretend that he and Ian were still together. If he could avoid it, he would.

 

Normally after a show, Ian would want to go to some party or go to dinner. Sometimes Tony would have some special event that he needed to show up to. Thankfully, though, since this was the first performance of the tour, it was considered better that Ian got his rest so the clock had only ticked a few minutes past one am by the time he and Mickey entered the hotel room that they were going to catch a few hours of sleep in before they were due to keep driving tomorrow morning.

 

On some nights they would just sleep in the bus, and on some they got a hotel room. It was dependent on whatever Ian felt like, and also how much time they had before they had to be at the next show. As much as Mickey wanted to roll his eyes at the fact that they had to share a room to make their relationship as believable as possible, he didn’t have much energy to complain. He and Ian had both been up for a long time by now, he just wanted to go to sleep.

 

“You want to uh… grab the bed? I can crash on the floor” Ian asked, dropping his bag onto the beige colored carpet in the large suite right as Mickey carefully shut the door behind them, locking it.

 

The room wasn’t all too large - it surely didn’t cost thousands and thousands of dollars, Mickey and Ian had both stayed in much bigger ones over the years - but at the same time it was nice. There was a big bathroom, a large television and a king sized bed. It was a lot more fancy than anything Mickey would have been able to dream of affording before he started acting.

 

“No, man” Mickey shook his head, placing his bag down onto the floor right by the door. “I’ll grab the floor, you’re gonna have to perform tomorrow. Better my back than yours” He assured his ex boyfriend, making the redhead nod a little bit as he lifted his right hand to the back of his neck - a nervous habit.

 

“Right. Thanks” He spoke. “I’m gonna grab a quick shower” Mickey nodded, watching Ian disappear into the bathroom. Once the door closed, he walked up to the bed and took one of the pillows along with one of the two covers on it, making himself a small bed onto the floor a few meters from where the bed ended, as he had done so many times before when they had fought.

 

Mickey stepped out of his jeans, draping them over the small carry-on bag that he had brought with him from the bus up to the hotel. Then he laid down, his flat palms resting on his stomach as he stared up into the ceiling. The truth was that this whole fake relationship thing felt oddly normal. Maybe it was what they had been doing for the entire past year without truly realizing it. The only difference now was that Mickey couldn’t curl up next to Ian tonight and pretend that they were just fine. They weren’t.

 

Five minutes - or so - later, the bathroom door opened again, and Mickey closed his eyes; it was easier to pretend to be asleep. At least for right now. He heard Ian climb into bed, the little bedside lamp that he had turned on when they had entered, switching off again, leaving them both in a completely black room, the incredibly distant sound of traffic just barely reaching their ears.

 

Mickey swallowed, his eyes slowly drifting open again - not that it made much of a difference with the blackness that was currently hugging him. He knew that he shouldn’t speak - it would either make them feel closer or further apart, none of which was a very good idea at the moment. Still; they were alone in a dark hotel-room. If he wanted to ask, he should do it now.

 

“Ian?”

 

 

“Hm?”

 

“Do you think that things would have been any different if um…” Mickey rolled his eyes, swallowing thickly, a tear trailing out of his eye and down his temple, hitting the pillow with a small sound that only he could hear. “If I hadn’t…” _If I hadn’t cheated, if I hadn’t betrayed you. If you hadn’t cheated, if you hadn’t betrayed me._

 

“Of course” Ian spoke; Mickey could hear the tears welling up in the green eyes only by the way his voice was ever so slightly darker than it typically was. “We’re both to blame, Mick”

 

Neither of them said anything more after that. Instead they closed their eyes, both of them spending the rest of the night viciously fighting the strong urge to walk over to the other man’s bed and hold him; if only for tonight.

 

 

***

 

 

Eventually, apparently Mickey did manage to catch a couple of hours of sleep because when he woke up, the sun was shining in through the large window of the hotel-room, alerting him to the fact that it was most likely a little bit too late for him to still be asleep by now. A loud sigh escaped his lips as he rolled over onto the left side of his body, reaching out onto the floor to grasp his phone, pressing the home-button to light it up. It wasn’t all too late, the clock was ticking closer and closer to eight. Usually that was about the time that they would leave in the morning when they had spent the night at a hotel, but Mickey still had twenty, fifteen minutes to get dressed and get down there.

 

When he sat up, he noticed that the bed was empty, meaning that Ian had most likely already gone down and started working. Or sometimes he would just wake up early and walk down to the bus to go back to sleep, just so that he wouldn’t have to worry about it.

 

Mickey reached his right hand up to his face, using his fingertips to rub some of the sleep out of his orbs before forcing himself to stand up. He got a hold of his toothbrush and toothpaste out of his carry-on bag, and he went into the bathroom to get the water for it. As he brushed, he walked around the hotel-room, throwing the pillow and covers back up onto the bed, because otherwise whoever cleaned here would be able to see that somebody had been sleeping on the floor and somehow it would surely end up a headline. Something like ‘trouble in paradise’. People were fucking crazy.

 

Once his teeth were cleaned and his jeans were back on his legs, Mickey ran a hand through the black mess on top of his head before grabbing his phone and calling to ask for a bodyguard to escort him down to the bus. It was pathetic in his opinion - he was a Milkovich, he could damn well handle himself. However, he also knew that both Tony and Angela would be pissed at him if he didn’t use a guard, so he had given into them about it years ago, if only because he didn’t have the energy to fight. He probably wouldn’t win anyhow.

 

There were a few fans still outside of the hotel - and by a few, Mickey meant maybe fifty - and despite the guard’s silent but obvious protests, Mickey stopped to take a few pictures with them. It was what Ian would do, and after five years, some of his kindness had surely rubbed off on Mickey. The fans were held back, though, as he kept walking because obviously they couldn’t have any access to the bus.

 

“Here you go” The body-guard spoke, nodding to the door.

 

“Thanks” Mickey mumbled, saluting him as he walked up to the short staircase, pushing the door open and entering the tiny ‘apartment’. At first, he was far too deep into his own mind to notice anything out of the ordinary. He walked three or four steps into the bus, closing the door behind himself as he dropped his bag onto the tiny table in the middle of the place. His head was filled with thoughts of the script he was reading, trying to come up with interesting ways to approach the character he was auditioning for in a few weeks, which wasn’t an unusual thing; Mickey was often half present, especially when he was in the middle of reading up on a part.

 

However, it didn’t take all too long before his eyebrows knitted together, soft moans filling his ears. Not just anybody’s moans - he knew that sound all too well after five years. Ian was moaning - thick sounding moans which from experience, Mickey knew meant that he was really fucking turned on. A lump quickly formed in Mickey’s throat, of course it did. Just because he and Ian weren’t together anymore didn’t mean that he had to be okay with him bringing random cocksluts back to the bus, even if the older man wasn’t there at the time. For this whole thing to work out, they had respect each other in some kind of way. Fucking another guy practically right in front of Mickey’s face wasn’t respect. Was it?

 

However, as the seconds ticked by - Mickey standing absolutely and completely frozen in the middle of the ‘apartment’, he realized that the only sounds that were reaching his ears were coming from Ian himself. Either the taller man had managed to find the absolute quietest fuck in the entire world, or…

 

Mickey swallowed roughly, and before he really knew what he was doing himself, he was taking small and easy steps towards the bedroom door. It wasn’t completely closed, in fact, there was quite a bit of space between the wall and said door, so Mickey had a good view of the bed without being seen himself. He shouldn’t be watching his ex jerk off, that might be even creepier than watching a stranger do it. It felt as if he was breaking some thick, unspoken but completely logical law. He couldn’t stop himself, though, it just wasn’t possible.

 

Through the little space in between the wall and the door, Mickey had a perfect view of Ian’s naked body. He was laying completely naked on top of the covers, head tiled backwards with his eyes clamped shut as he steadily worked a hand up and down his red - and seemingly throbbing - cock. Every single inch of his skin was flushed with need, the red hair messed up in the absolute hottest way.

 

Mickey wished oh so badly that he knew how he was supposed to stop this. That he knew how to make his own cock stop growing, and how to cease his blood from rushing to the surface to match Ian’s. Ian’s thick moans and groans grew even a little bit louder as he continued working himself, still very blissfully unaware of Mickey watching him. Mickey knew that this was creepy, and that he shouldn’t be doing it, but it was just completely impossible to stop. Ian was too beautiful, too hot. Way too perfect. His legs were laying flat against the covers, his hips slowly rolling upwards to meet his hand as he worked himself.

 

“Mickey” He sighed roughly. “My beautiful baby” Maybe Mickey should have been surprised that he was the one that was currently on Ian’s mind, but of course he wasn’t really. It made sense. They were in the weirdest place on earth right now.

 

Mickey’s non-shock aside though, Ian moaning his name did give him the courage to ease the door open, stepping inside of the little bedroom. He knew that he shouldn’t be doing this - they shouldn’t be doing this. If they wanted to be able to move on from each other at some point, having a back-slide was the absolute worst idea. Especially since they had to choice but to keep seeing each other just about every single day for the next year, and Mickey was an idiot if he thought that they would be able to stop sleeping together once they had started.

 

However, Ian was still completely unaware of the fact that Mickey had entered. He was still spread out on the bed, working his cock and looking as beautiful as ever as Mickey’s name fell from his lips a few more times. What other possible option did Mickey have but to make his fantasy real? Just for now. Just once. Just once more. Just once more he needed to feel Ian’s weight on top of him, and just once more he needed to feel his perfect, huge cock stretch him out. He fucking needed it, and he knew that they both did.

 

Mickey’s lips were slightly parted, eyes staying glued to his ex boyfriend as he reached behind himself, peeling his shirt off of his body and letting it fall to the floor to join his ex-boyfriend’s. Ian was still caught up in his fantasy, so much so that he was still showing zero signs of acknowledgement to Mickey’s presence and his moans were growing slightly louder with every jerk of his hand.

 

Mickey was well aware of the fact that this was not a good idea - it was a terrible one, in fact. But right now he didn’t give a shit at all. He needed this, he just did. So instead of overthinking his actions, he purposefully shut his brain off, swallowing as he toes his shoes off and unzipped his jeans, sliding them down to the floor along with his boxers, leaving him completely naked. A soft sigh escaped his lips as the pressure let go of his aching erection, but it did nothing to overcloud Ian’s loud groans as he continued working his cock.

 

Despite the fact that Mickey no longer had any fabric touching his body, he stayed still for a second, lips slightly parted as he continued observing the beautiful man spread out in front of him. The large, freckly hand continued moving up and down as he jerked himself off, eyes still very much clenched closed, the occasional version of Mickey’s name falling from his lips. In this moment, Mickey supposed that it would have been understandable to break down. Cry for everything that they used to be and would never be again. But he had decided not to think at all. Not now. He couldn’t.

 

So instead he swallowed thickly, his tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip as he took the one and a half steps forwards, gracefully climbing onto the large bed and Ian’s body. That was, of course, when Ian was somewhat torn out of his haze, realizing that he was no longer alone in the room. His eyes widened at the sight and the feeling of Mickey’s naked body straddling his torso, blue gaze stuck on his own.

 

“Mick, I um…” He started, his hand leaving his aching cock and falling to Mickey’s thigh out of habit. His heart was beating fast in his throat, feeling as if he was going to throw up at any point in time. Fuck, yes this was what he wanted, but he knew that it hadn’t been a good idea to be jerking off thinking about Mickey, it wasn’t really going to get him anywhere.

 

“Shut the fuck up” Mickey cursed, and Ian recognized it as his _‘I am so fucking horny right now. Whatever is going on, we’re pressing pause because I need you to fuck me as hard and as violently as you possibly can. Now’_ version of _‘Shut the fuck up’_. After five years together, he was more than familiar with it. He could do nothing but obey as Mickey tore their eyes apart, reaching over to the nightstand where the lube was always kept.

 

Mickey’s tongue swiped over his own bottom lip once again as he popped the top open, squeezing a small amount of the lubricant out onto his fingertips before throwing the tube to the floor, not currently giving a shit where it landed. Both of Ian’s hands stayed resting onto the upper part of his thighs as he straightened up a little bit, lifting himself a few inched off of his torso so that he could gently ease a finger into himself, his head tilted backwards.

 

Truthfully, he hadn’t really been all that horny lately - understandably, he assumed. So it felt so fucking good to have something inside of himself again, even if it was nothing but his own finger. He could feel Ian’s beautiful eyes on him as he fucked himself, sliding the finger in and out of himself, making sure that he would be good and ready to take Ian’s large cock. His chest was already slightly flushed red, his neck a little bit strained as he added the second finger, scissoring them slightly to get ready faster.

 

Mickey’s throat wet a little bit dry as he started moving his hips, riding the two fingers as his free hand rested flatly on Ian’s toned, warm chest, helping him stay steady. He could feel disown fingers gently press against his inner walls as he moved them from side to side, stretching himself. His head was just about spinning at this point, only not in the usual way. His head wasn’t spinning with overthought thoughts or theories about how he may or may not feel about this whole Ian situation. No, for once his head was spinning in the best way. Filled with sex and heat and need.

 

It didn’t take all that long before Mickey slipped his fingers out of himself, lazily using the cover next to their bodies to wipe some of the excess lube off. His throat was completely and utterly dry by the time he let his eyes slip open again, connecting with the beautiful, amazed green ones underneath him.

 

“Here” Mickey sighed, reaching for Ian’s hands, lifting them off off his thighs and pinning them to the pillow above his head. He needed to have some kind of control, he couldn’t just have Ian touch him however he wanted, because that would turn into making love way too fast, and they couldn’t be doing that shit. That would be a thousand times worse than a quick and rough back-slide.

 

At first their eyes were lost, drowning deep into each other’s; but as Mickey finally sank down, his ass swallowing Ian’s cock inch by inch, it didn’t take very long before the pleasure was too much for them both, so their eyelids soon came down, covering their eyes. Both pairs of lips were parted, their chests feeling like fucking cotton candy machines or some shit. The dark eyebrows knitted together, Mickey’s teeth digging into his bottom lip as the slight sting of Ian’s perfect cock stretching him out registered in his brain. Fuck, he had missed this. So fucking much.

 

Ian’s cock was both thick and unbelievably long, and Mickey knew that nothing would ever be able to beat the feeling of taking it inside of him. Ian could reach every single spot, press perfectly against his inner walls, forcing him open.

 

“Mick. You feel so fucking - “

 

“Shh. I said no fucking talking” Mickey cut his ex boyfriend off, both of their eyes still staying closed as he lifted himself again, far enough that only the very tip of Ian’s cock was left inside of him; he waited a second or two, and then he finally got started riding him in the way that they both needed. His neck was stretched backwards, although his entire body tilted somewhat forwards so that he could keep Ian’s wrists pinned to the pillow. It took a few tries before Mickey finally managed to build up a good pace, bringing himself up and down Ian’s cock, feeling the hot, throbbing and perfect sensation suspend in between them and spread throughout his entire body. Word would never be able to describe how much he had missed this.

 

Thick moans and groans filled the small room as Mickey continued riding the perfect man underneath him, his heart all but fluttering with every single movement, blown away at how fucking perfect this felt - all of it. A very thin layer of sweat started to appear, coating Mickey’s skin, a slight burning sensation starting to disturb his thighs thanks to the physical work it took to ride a cock like he was fucking born to do it or some shit. He didn’t give a shit about tiring his muscles out, having Ian’s cock sliding in and out of him again felt way too fucking good, pain was a small price to pay.

 

A slight ‘thud thud thud’ filled the room as Mickey sped up even a little bit more, riding Ian a little bit harder, thirsting to have the tip of his cock slamming against his prostate. He wanted it so fucking bad, he wanted everything.

 

“Mickey, you - fuck, I - “ Words started tumbling out of Ian’s mouth, and without opening his eyes, Mickey let his right hand leave his wrists, keeping his ex’s hands pinned to the pillow using only his left one. Mickey cupped his right hand slightly, pressing it securely against Ian’s mouth, keeping him quiet as he continued riding the fuck out of him as if he were a bull or some shit. It had been way too fucking long since he had done this, he wanted to do a good job.

 

Their hearts were completely throbbing, throwing themselves against their ribcages, pleasure and pain coursing throughout their veins, every single inch of their bodies buzzing. All the way from their toes to the very top of their heads. Mickey swallowed roughly, doing his best to speed up a little bit more, completely bouncing up and down Ian’s cock, loving the way that it felt; forcing it inside of him over and over again, the slight sting still somewhat present since he hadn’t spent any time on prep beyond the absolute necessary.

 

Ian’s loud cries continued pouring into his palm, and soon he felt a pair of teeth close around a bit of his palm, biting roughly. Mickey knew Ian well enough by now to understand that he wasn’t making a conscious decision to do so, it just happened. Neither of them were all too present in their bodies anymore, in fact they were just about made up out of passion and heat by now. Both pairs of eyes were still clenched closed in pleasure, but Mickey felt Ian’s head tilt backwards as his teeth tightened around his skin, louder, muffled screams escaping his throat as he started lifting his hips a little bit, timing Mickey’s movements and making their fucking even a little bit more forceful, both of them craving their highs.

 

Ian’s teeth clenched down even a little bit harder, and by now Mickey was quite sure that his skin could break any moment. Not that he gave a shit. In fact, that pain was what urged him on even more, speeding up, doing his best to ride Ian even a little bit harder. By now, they were both moving fast, fucking each other into complete oblivion.

 

Before Mickey knew exactly what was happening though, he was flipped over onto his back, his hands thrown off of Ian’s body. Ian was on top of him, continuing to thrust his hips, pounding into Mickey at a fast pace, hitting his prostate over and over again. The large hands were securely placed onto the older man’s hips, holding him tightly. Mickey would have cried out his pleasure, howled and screamed, but he couldn’t. Because Ian’s tongue was shoved deep down into his mouth, his lips covering his. Mickey supposed that he shouldn’t be allowing this; this was supposed to be a quick fuck, and they both knew that kissing would make it all that much more complicated, but at the moment this felt too familiar. Too fucking good. Too… home sweet home.

 

So instead of throwing Ian’s body off of his own, he wrapped his legs tightly around his torso, winding his arms tightly around his neck, keeping their mouths pressed closely together, teeth nipping at each other’s lips as they continued moving together almost as if they were born for each other and only each other. Mickey couldn’t really do much other than just lay there as Ian continued slamming his cock into his ass over and over again, hitting the exact right spot every single time, fucking him senseless in that perfect way that only he could.

 

“I love you” Ian pulled away a little bit to sigh, their lips still touching somewhat. Mickey felt something wet hit his cheek, and it took him a second or two to realize that the tear wasn’t coming from Ian. It was his own. Maybe fucking Ian, feeling all of this, this - this mindblowing love - was just way too much. Something they shouldn’t be doing. They were like fucking alcoholics or drug addicts, completely dependent off of each other and it was nothing short of unhealthy to believe that maybe they could just have a little bit. Just one more time. That would never be able to happen, not for them. “I love you. Fuck, baby. I am so, so sorry” Ian continued mumbling into Mickey’s mouth.

 

Ian was still fucking Mickey, although his movements had slowed down ever so slightly as he professed his love, tears now starting to escape the green eyes as well. Both pairs were open now, gazes deep into each other’s. Ian’s right hand left Mickey’s hip, and he brought it up to gently cup his face instead, his thumb caressing his jawline, holding him tenderly.

 

“You’re the love of my life, Mickey. Nobody else. I love you so fucking much. I am so fucking sorry for everything” Ian continued sighing his heart into Mickey’s mouth, their tears blending together, breaths hitting each other’s tongues as they inched closer and closer to the edge, Ian continuing to fuck his ex at a steady pace.

 

“Fuck, Ian I - I love you” Mickey finally cracked, wrapping his arms a little bit tighter around Ian’s neck, pressing their lips tightly slotted together into a loving kiss. This was all too much, the kisses, the fucking, the _‘I love you_ ’s and the crying.

 

Ian’s tongue crowded Mickey’s mouth so perfectly, his hips rolling into Mickey, the perfectly shaped legs tightening around his torso as he sped up every so slightly, the kiss continuing even deeper than before as they tumbled closer and closer towards their highs. Every touch, every movement and every sigh, every moan - all of it said one thing. Ian may be thrusting into his ex hard, making them both see stars, but that didn’t change the fact that they were making love. They loved each other so fucking much and no matter how much they tried to get around that fact, they would never quite be able to.

 

Mickey tightened his hold on Ian a little bit further, and Ian moved his thumb against his cheek in sure and soft circles, rolling his hips at a steady pace, hitting Mickey’s prostate with every single thrust. After five years together, they didn’t say when they were close, they never needed to anymore. Instead Mickey’s legs tightened even a little bit further around Ian’s waist, and Ian slowed down a little bit, focusing on the force of the stabs into the older man, rather than the speed. That’s how they knew. They just did.

 

Ian moved his left hand from Mickey’s hip, down to his cock, giving it a few good tugs as he slammed into his ass once more, or maybe twice. Then both men completely froze, Ian staying balls deep inside of Mickey as he filled him up with loads and loads of come, the white, sticky liquid splashing against Mickey’s inner walls. The kiss continued, the men swallowing each other’s moans, groans and loud cries as Mickey came as well, his come covering their chests, gluing them together.

 

Their limbs stayed wrapped around each other’s bodies, lips pressed together, eyes clenched closed in pleasure as they both shook, thrummed and throbbed through their highs, whites and stars clouding their visions right before it was over and Ian’s heavy body collapsed on top of Mickey, both of them completely and utterly fucked out of their minds, muscles not much more than marshmallows at this point. Maybe it was because of the physical exhaustion, maybe it was mental, or maybe it was both. They weren’t too sure, and it didn’t really matter.

 

At some point during their intense fucking session, the bus had started moving again. Something Mickey became aware of when he finally forced his eyes open, surely a good three minutes after they had fallen into that sweaty pile of limbs. Through the small glass window in the roof, he could see the clouds rush by, and he knew that they were rolling again.

 

The remainder of the bliss seeped out of Mickey’s body, and suddenly he felt incredibly dirty. Ian’s body felt way too heavy on top of his own, his breath too hot where it fanned his neck. Maybe that wasn't true; maybe the weight was comforting and maybe he wished that he could match his breaths to Ian’s and go to sleep because he knew that it would be the best sleep that he had had in weeks. But he had to tell himself that it felt wrong, because that’s what it was. Wrong. He and Ian weren’t together. In love or not, they had both agreed to move on from each other, but here they both had to go and ruin all of it. Fucking Gallagher and his fucking perfect cock and sweet words.

 

“Move, man” Mickey finally managed to force the words out of his mouth. Although his voice sounded quite restrained. Rough and tired. Confused. Which he was, of course. If he had been confused before their back-slide, it was nothing compared to now. Sure, the lines had been pretty blurry before. They had been forced to be in each other’s presence, act like a couple. But they had known that they weren’t one. They hadn’t kissed, hadn’t fucked, not anything. But now, here they were. Naked and sweaty in bed, post orgasm. If that wasn’t the definition of a blurry relationship to have with your ex, Mickey didn’t know what the fuck was.

 

A loud sigh escaped Ian’s lips as he obeyed, forcing his numb body to roll off of Mickey. Mickey slid his tongue over his own bottom lip in nervousness as he sat up and threw his legs over the edge of the bed, reaching for his boxers. He stood up for a second, pulling the clothing piece up over his ass before sitting back down with his shirt in his hands.

 

“Hey” Ian’s rough, post-fuck voice was accompanied by a warm and soft hand on the small of Mickey’s back, and the older man had to let his eyes slip closed for a second, a deep sigh escaping his lips. He knew Ian all too well. He thought that they were back together now, and the last thing Mickey wanted to do was hurt him. Again. But he had to. They couldn’t. “This is it?” Ian asked; when Mickey turned around, he was still laying down on his stomach. His right cheek was turned down, deep into the pillow as a lazy smile stretched its way across his lips, green eyes practically sparkling with love and kindness. “You and me? Again?” It sounded as if he was so certain in some kind of way, yet wanted to make sure. That only made this so much harder.

 

“Ian, we can’t” Mickey shook his head, swallowing thickly as he watched Ian furrow his eyebrows, rising himself a little bit, leaning back onto his elbows. The red hair was completely messed up in the cutest way, and Mickey longed to reach forwards and run his fingers through it, but he knew that he couldn’t. It wasn’t fair to either of them to do something like that right now. In a way, Mickey wasn’t all too sure about who was being the most logical here, but he couldn’t get out of this mindset that if he and Ian were to get back together, someday at some point, they would end up right back where they had started. They had done it tons and tons of times before - broken up and gotten back together. Not in this sense, of course. This was way bigger and way more real than any of the previous times, but Mickey’s point stood steadier than ever. If they broke up, they would get nothing out of it in the very end.

 

“What do you mean we can’t?” Ian asked, easing himself up a little bit further until he was sitting on top of the covers, the confusion wrinkles in his forehead more present than ever as he reached forwards, placing a large and warm hand on the side of Mickey’s neck, tugging him a little bit closer. Mickey’s tongue darted out to wetness bottom lip as he let his eyes flutter closed, their foreheads leaning together. “Baby, please don’t fight this” Ian begged through a sigh. “We would be so fucking happy, I know we would” His breath fanned Mickey’s lips, and it took every single ounce of strength inside of the older man to keep from leaning in and kissing him.

 

Instead, Mickey managed to inch their faces a bit away from each other; Ian didn’t take his hand off of his neck, though. They both slowly blinked their eyes open, sadness meeting sadness as the younger man waited for Mickey to give him a reason.

 

“For how long?”

 

With those three, absolutely heartbreaking words, Mickey stood up, letting Ian’s hand slip off of his body as he picked the rest of his clothes up from the floor, leaving the bedroom. Ian didn’t stop him. He couldn’t, because he knew that he was right.

 

 

***

 

 

The rest of the day was nothing short of uncomfortable, of course. Save for the pounding ache in Mickey’s ass, reminding him of the three steps back he had taken in getting over Ian, there was also the awkwardness of having to share a tiny, tiny ‘apartment’ with the person you really needed to be away from. Mickey wasn’t angry with Ian, and Ian wasn’t angry with Mickey, that wasn’t why it was awkward. It was awkward because now they weren’t all too sure where they stood with this shit anymore. The one thing they had been able to hang onto with this whole fake relationship thing was the fact that they weren't kissing, they weren’t fucking. Now they didn’t have that anymore, so it was all blurry to say the fucking least.

 

Three, going on four hours after their slip, they were still trapped in that little section of the bus together, and they hadn’t said anything to each other beyond _‘You want coffee?’_ and _‘Yeah’_ or ‘ _You hungry?’_ and _‘I guess’_

 

Ian was sitting on the window-seat, scribbling something down into a notebook - most likely changing around some kind of song-lyrics, wanting to get everything completely right. Mickey was sitting across the room - which honestly wasn’t all that far with how skinny the bus was, they would easy be able to talk in soft voices and hear the other without trying too hard. He had his legs bent into indian position, his computer resting in his lap with a pdf document pulled up; one of the scripts that he was meant to be reading. But he couldn’t focus, not at all.

 

Instead his gaze was focused on Ian. The truth was that he knew that he had hurt Ian this morning. They had fucked, they had even professed their remaining love for one another, and yet Mickey had shook his head when Ian had assumed that they were getting back together. It wasn’t fair - even if Mickey knew that Ian knew that he was right.

 

“I’m sorry” Mickey didn’t remember deciding to utter the words, they were just there; making Ian look up and their eyes connect. They were both silent for a second, and Mickey wasn’t all too sure what kind of reaction he would be getting. A sad one, an angry one or an… Ian one. A sweet one, that was. The younger man tilted his head slightly to the side, his tongue swiping across his bottom lip right before he let his mouth be tugged up into a soft, reassuring smile.

 

“Don’t be, Mickey” Ian promised, voice rough, yet somehow smooth and soothing. “You’re right. I know you are” Mickey blinked at him a time or two, and then their eyes slipped apart, both of them going back to focusing on their work.

 

Neither of them said anything after that, and they didn’t need to. Heartbreak and awkwardness aside, for once they were finally on the same page. For real this time.

***

 

“Do we need to go over this again, or do you have everything clear for yourselves?” Tony asked as he circled around the two younger men, making sure that there weren’t any wrinkles in their clothes, checking so that their hair was laying precisely right. They had ushered their stylists out of the dressing-room a few minutes ago to get a couple of seconds alone to talk all of this over, figuring out how everything was going to go down. Mickey had to admit - despite the fact that going on talk-shows was one of his absolute least favorite things to do - he wasn’t all that nervous. He and Ian had gone on these things together a hundred times over in the past five years, it wasn’t that big of a deal. At least not in comparison to the other shit that they were currently dealing with.

 

“We’re good” Ian assured his manager.

 

Mickey felt as if his head was still positively spinning, and he thought that he could still feel his ex buried deep inside of him since this morning. He knew that what they had done hadn’t been a good thing, it hadn’t helped them in any way shape or form. In the last hours, he had gone over the incident thousands of times his head, and he went back and forth between beating himself up and being glad that it happened. Glad that it happened because now they were absolutely clear on that it shouldn’t have. It was as if they were… finally agreeing on something. Not in so many words - they hadn’t really spoken about it - but more so in the way that they were acting around each other. Ian seemed ever so slightly bit more reserved, and Mickey guessed that that was how he was as well. It was all for the best.

 

“Alright” Tony mumbled to himself, taking a few steps backwards, gaze running up and down Ian’s body for a second, making sure that the brown leather jacket hung just right over his body, checking so that his black skinny jeans sat perfectly glued to his legs. “Are you guys ready to go out there? It’s time”

 

“Yeah, we’re good” Ian repeated, gaze slipping to the blue eyes as if he was making sure that Mickey was as well. The slightly older man nodded in reassurance, taking a few steps closer.

 

“Oh, don’t hold hands” He said when they were on their way towards the door. “It’s too sweet, a little bit too obvious” The younger men nodded, perfectly understanding her point right as they were ushered out of the dressing-room and towards the stage, seemingly in a hurry as they were running a little bit late. They stopped at the entrance, side by side as they waited for their names to be called out.

 

Mickey tuned out for a second or two, his head swimming in thoughts of this morning and what the fuck they were actually doing with their lives. Ian’s hand was hanging right beside his, their knuckles just barely brushing, and he thought that he could actually hear his heart speed up at the none touch. Maybe Ian did, too because he turned his head, Mickey somehow feeling coaxed into doing the same. The green eyes stared down at him, his tongue darting out to wet his lips.

 

Ian brushed their knuckles a little bit closer together, softly slipping his middle finger in-between Mickey’s thumb and forefinger, their faces inching a little bit closer together. The noise of the crowd was tuned out, to the two of them being replaced with the sound of Ian’s beating heart and Mickey’s rushing blood. Mickey could just feel Ian’s breath fan his lips when they were torn out of the moment.

 

“Please welcome Ian Gallagher and Mickey Milkovich!” Ian sighed heavily, disappointment prominent in the sound as they tore themselves apart from each other, straightening up, drawing two perfect smiles onto their faces right as they walked out, heading towards the host. Mickey made sure to keep his shoulders rolled back, attempting to look as confident and as comfortable as possible, just as his ‘boyfriend’ did. The truth was that it wasn’t all that difficult to pretend like this anymore, they easily slipped back into what they used to be, making the act that much more believable.

 

They walked tightly next to each other, and Ian hugged the woman as the crowd cheered for them, Mickey going then right before they sat down, smiling at both the crowd and the host. The purple backdrop admitted some kind of soft light over the stage, the woman’s beautiful wig rested perfectly on top of her head, large and practiced smile stretched out across her face as they all waited a few seconds for the crowd and the music to calm down so that they call could talk.

 

“So” The woman sighed, smile still glued to her lips as she crossed her legs, looking at the young men. “It’s been a while since you’ve both been here”

 

“It’s been a while, yeah” Ian agreed, Mickey smiling and nodding in agreement. They both had this whole interview down to a science by now, whether it was individually or as a couple. It was as if they knew exactly what to say, how to answer and what not to.

 

“How are you - “ She trailed off for a second as the crowd got a little bit louder. “How are you doing? You’re both adorable as always”

 

“Thank you, so are you” Ian kept his grin glued onto his face, leaning back against the couch ever so slightly, turning his head to look at Mickey, and Mickey knew that he needed to take the question. It was an easy concept, for a double interview to work the two of them had to let the questions bounce in between them to make sure that it wasn’t just one of them who talked. It had taken a few tries, but they were actually pretty good at it by now, whether they were together or not, it was actually easy at this point.

 

“We’re doing great” Mickey nodded, smiling at the host as he sank back into old habits, almost believing that he and Ian were back together himself with how smoothly this all seemed to go so far. “You know, the movie I did last just wrapped up I got a lot of free time. It feels good to be able to follow Ian on tour and stuff, relax”

 

“Take some time to yourselves, slow down a little bit, I get it. That sounds amazing” The host spoke as Ian reached an arm out, laying it behind Mickey on the back of the couch, the older man leaning into him a little bit, making them look like the diabetes causing couple that they once were. “So, Ian. Is it any difference between how much you get done when Mickey is with you on tour and when he’s not?” She gestured a little bit between the two men, causing a few chuckles to escape Ian’s mouth as he nodded truthfully, fingers gently brushing Mickey’s clothed shoulder as they sat casually close together, the sides of their thighs just barely nudging.

 

“Yeah, of course” Ian nodded. “Yeah, when he’s with me of course I want to be with him as much as I can, which means that I don’t always get as much writing done on the bus. But um…” He trailed off for a second, turning to look deep into the beautiful blue eyes before he looked back at the woman in the chair in front of them. “It’s alright, things work out anyway. If he has the time to join, of course I want him with me, no matter what”

 

Mickey looked at his ‘boyfriend’, nothing but pure love and admiration in his eyes as the crowd let out a low ‘ _awww_ ’ sound, making both men and the host laugh a little bit, quietly. After years upon years of being together, Ian and Mickey had more than learned what to say to make people love them.

 

“That is so sweet. I can never get enough of you two, oh” She waved her hand a little bit, Mickey and Ian both chuckling at the gesture. “So how long is the tour going on for, is it finishing up or just starting off?” The woman asked, looking at the country singer.

 

“Uh, oh well, we just kicked it off the other day” Ian spoke. “Actually, so a few more months. I think we have a few major shows in Chicago, a couple of nights up in LA, so we’re just going to be kind of all over the place for a bit. I’m excited, it’s one of the biggest tours I’ve ever done. It’s going amazing so far”

 

“Well, I am so excited for you, Ian. I’m a huge fan of your music, you know this”

 

“Thank you” The redhead smiled, his head moving up and down a few times as the woman directed her attention back to Mickey.

 

“So. Let’s talk about your movie. Seven nights, right?” Mickey nodded, the polite smile this very present on his face. “It’s a little bit more romantic, a little bit more drama that what you’ve done in the past. Was that challenging at all?”

 

Mickey opened his mouth, talking about his character and exposing a few of the embarrassing moments on set, making everybody inside of the studio laugh. It was quite easy, and the remaining fifteen minutes or so of the interview went just as smoothly as the beginning. Mickey and Ian stayed sitting close together, looking as each other every now and then, Mickey lacing their fingers together towards the very end of the interview, and it felt as if they were not only somewhat believable, but it also felt as if they were… together. Again.

 

Which Mickey supposed wasn’t all too strange considering the circumstances, but he also knew that it wasn’t healthy. None of this was.

 

 

***

 

 

“That went great, how did it feel?” Tony asked when Ian and Mickey walked back into the dressing-room to join him again. Mickey let his tongue dart out to swipe across his dry bottom lip, staying quiet and therefor forcing Ian to take this one, he just couldn’t handle it right now. It was too scary, standing on the threshold of his and Ian’s relationship, not knowing whether either of them were quite in or out anymore. He didn’t know up and down, and he didn’t know left or right. All he wanted was for this entire thing to be over - if only for the fact that he knew that that wasn’t the whole truth.

 

 

***

 

 

Because of the fact that the interview had been scheduled quite late at night, Ian didn’t have a show until the next one to make sure that he had enough energy to get through it all. This, Mickey was incredibly thankful for. There had been way too many twenty four hour work days - slash nights - in their past and they had learned through failure after failure that it just didn’t work. They both got cranky and hungry, and neither of them could focus on anything.

 

So instead of having to head straight to some arena, they got into a limousine after the interview, and they got driven to the hotel where they would be staying for the next two nights. Once again, Tony and Angela had gotten them one room together, and though Mickey wasn’t all too keen on the idea of sleeping on the floor again, he knew that it wasn’t worth arguing over all that much.

 

Neither of them spoke all that much as Ian unlocked the door and they walked inside. Oddly enough it was more of a comfortable silence than anything else, though; when two people have known each other for as long as the two of them had, maybe that was just what happened. They didn’t need to talk to be alright with being in each other’s presence. Just hearing the other breathe was enough, although that might be unhealthy seeing as they were supposed to be broken up.

 

Mickey closed the door behind himself, walking over to the bed and dropping his bag onto the mattress as Ian headed into the bathroom. He took his phone out of his pocket, pressing the home-button to make the screen light up, just making sure that he hadn’t missed any important messages or voicemails - by the way, who the fuck came up with the whole voicemail thing? Mickey had never once in his entire life understood it. He didn’t like them, they were unnecessary and just plain stupid. If someone had called him, he would call them back. What the fuck did he need a voicemail box for?

 

Mickey was ripped out of his internal voicemail rant by wanted running in the bathroom; it sounded a lot heavier than a tap yet different than a simple shower, and it made the dark eyebrows knit together ever so slightly in curiosity as he locked his phone, putting it face down on the top of his bag, lifting the whole thing down onto the floor just so that he wouldn’t have to do it later. Then he crossed his arms, walking to the bathroom door and looking inside, finding a huge - several meters on each end, huge - hot-tub being filled up.

 

He should have fucking known that this hotel would have one - it was a fuck of a lot fancier than the last one they stayed at. The entire bathroom was probably at least half the size of his own penthouse. Ian had always been a sucker for huge, luxurious hot-tubs like this and as much as Mickey often tried denying it, he loved them too. His gaze moved to the younger man; he was standing next to the tub, his profile turned towards the door as he peeled his shirt off of his body, his jeans joining the clothing piece onto the floor.

 

Mickey knew that the healthiest option at that point would have been to look away - turn around and lay down on the bed to watch some television or some shit. But it was as if he was completely frozen, watching this beautiful man shed his clothes. It didn’t matter that he had seen him naked over five billion times, and it didn’t matter that he had every dip, every hair and every tiny scar marked into his brain by now - the beauty of Ian’s being would most likely never cease to amaze him.

 

“Mick?” Ian’s voice called his ex boyfriend back to earth, the blue gaze slipping up his body to connect with the green. The large and pale hands were resting on the waistband of his boxers as he awaited Mickey’s reaction. Oddly enough, it didn’t seem as if he was teasing him, he was just acting as if nothing. As if undressing and taking a bath like this wasn’t anything strange at all. As if they weren’t exes, but… boyfriends.

 

“Sorry, I was um…” Mickey started shakily, thumbing his bottom lip for a beat. “I don’t know, man. What are you doing?” It was a stupid question, of course. He couldn’t remember even one time that he had shared a hotel-room with Ian that had a hottub, and Ian hadn’t jumped at the opportunity to be in it.

 

Ian didn’t answer the question directly, and instead hooked his fingers properly in the waistband of his boxers, bending as he pushed them down to the floor, kicking them to the side as he straightened up again, leaving himself completely bare for his ex to look at. Mickey didn’t even try to hide the way his eyes were traveling over Ian’s body this time. He was standing straight across from him now, not an inch of his perfectly shaped body hidden, the sight of his huge and half-hard cock immediately causing Mickey’s own to start to stir inside of his jeans.

 

“Just want to try out the tub, you want to join?” Ian asked as if it was nothing, reaching over to turn the water of as it was just a good few inches from pouring over the edge. Then he stood up straight again, waiting for Mickey’s answer.

 

“That’s not a good idea” Mickey swallowed the answer he desperately wanted to give. Ian tilted his head slightly to the side, a tiny smirk dancing on the surface of his lips.

 

“Come on, Mick. You know you love these tubs just as much as I do. It’s just a bath, we had sex less than twenty four hours ago, what’s the big deal?” Ian did his best to convince Mickey to join him. The truth was that even putting Ian aside, Mickey hadn’t had the chance to take a bath in surely a few months, so the thought of sinking down into the hot water was anything but unappealing.

 

Mickey hesitated for another beat or so before he finally sighed.

 

“Fuck it” He took the remaining two or three steps into the bathroom, peeling his shirt off as Ian grinned, slipping into the water leaning back against the edge as he watched his ex boyfriend undress for him. Mickey didn’t bother doing it slowly or anything like that, instead his shirt joined Ian’s on the heated floor, his jeans soon joining, along with his boxers to leave him completely bare, just as Ian.

 

“Come here” Ian spoke softly, unable to take his gaze off of Mickey’s body. Not just his semi-raised cock, or his abs - although those parts were admittedly sexy as fuck. No, he also focused on the way his perfectly pale skin curved and dipped over his hips and arms. The way his eyes seemed bluer than ever before and the way his lips were dry and chapped, yet somehow managed to be beautiful and more appealing to Ian than any other pair of lips in the entire world could ever be.

 

He saw the scar on Mickey’s collarbone in the form of his own teeth - a few months back they had gone to Las Vegas and gotten drunker than they ever really had in the past, and with it hornier. Neither of them remembered much, but apparently Ian had been very keen on marking Mickey as his that night, and had ended up breaking his skin. Mickey had said a thousand times over that he loved it, and the truth was that on some level, Ian did as well.

 

Mickey swallowed, gently stepping into the hot water, feeling it burn his skin just the right amount as he sank down, leaning back against Ian’s chest out of habit; it was just easier that way. Ian wasted no time wrapping his arms tightly around his waist, his legs separating a little bit, allowing his ex boyfriend to take his place in between them as they sighed in unison. Whether that sigh was from the bath or from holding each other again, neither of them wanted to ask themselves, because they knew the answer.

 

Short, hot breaths escaped Mickey’s lips, his eyes slipped closed. Ian’s arms were tightly wound around his waist, pressing them close together, the taller man’s own breath fanning his neck. Mickey soon felt a soft, loving kiss being pressed to the skin right behind his ear, and he didn’t have the energy to tell Ian to back off, he couldn’t. Fuck, he wanted this. Him.

 

“Just a bath, huh?” Mickey’s words were heavy, sighing and clouded by want despite the fact that Ian didn’t do anything other than press a few more kisses to his neck, down to his shoulder. He didn’t suck, there was no tongue involved. They were just soft little pecks, each one reminding Mickey why he fell in love with this man to begin with. “Nothing more?” He asked then, tilting his head further to the left, leaning back a little bit further against Ian’s chest, giving incredibly clear signals that he was anything but against this. Ian’s arms were crossed over his chest, hands curled around his sides, holding them tightly together as his kisses grew ever so slightly wetter, his tongue warming up the small areas of Mickey’s skin.

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about” Ian hummed lowly, voice incredibly dark, laced with pure and unadulterated need. Want. Mickey placed his hands on top of his, their fingers being laced tightly together as they leaned into one another. His head was nothing if not completely hazey, lost in the perfect way in which Ian was sucking, kissing and nibbling on his neck. Mickey couldn’t stop himself as he pressed his lower body downwards a little bit, grinding ever so slightly against Ian’s rockhard erection, the scolding water surrounding them doing nothing but intensifying the situation in between them, both of the men wanting the other more than they would ever really be willing to admit at this point in their lives.

 

“We shouldn’t…” Mickey sighed breathily, the words just barely audible. “We shouldn’t…” He tried again, Ian’s kisses showing no sign of slowing down. Instead he started all but eating at the skin, running his teeth over the pale skin every now and then, subconsciously making sure that the older man would have a nice set of marks in the morning. His hot tongue continued drawing circles in between his sucking lips, his hips rocking up ever so slightly, slipping in between Mickey’s perfect ass cheeks as the bottom pressed down a little bit, building up even more friction. “It would be just…” Four more meaningless words escaped Mickey’s lips. “Way too easy to… Slip back into… What we… Aye, fuck it” He finally completely cracked under Ian’s magical touch, lifting his right hand up out of the water to place it on the back of his neck, tilting his own far back to press their lips together in a hot, wet and sweaty mess, both of their bodies completely melting with the act.

 

Ian’s arms stayed tightly wrapped around Mickey’s body as both men got lost in the kiss - lost in each other - for a minute or so, tongues safely sliding over one another’s. Ian sighed roughly as they pulled apart for a second, their noses uncomfortably smashed together, not that either of them gave a shit at the moment. Mickey curled his fingers, scratching at the red strands at the back of his ex boyfriend’s as they went in for even more, pure love and passion in between them. Need and desperation.

 

“Fuck me” Mickey sighed against Ian’s eager tongue. “Now. Please, I fucking need it so bad” Ian hummed darkly, kissing his ex boyfriend two more times, making sure to make them and biting and as passionate as he possibly could before he loosened his arms around his body, grabbing Mickey’s hips in a steady grip as he lifted them both up, the shorter man getting the hint and grabbing a hold of the wide edge of the tub, curving his back a little bit, exposing his still stretched hole to Ian, waiting for him to push inside, feeling his heart throb in need and anticipation. “Fuck” He sighed when he heard the sound of a button being pressed, large and powerful hot bubbles escaping out the of the tub, some of them shooting straight at his aching cock.

 

Mickey was just about to whine about Ian taking too long, but he didn’t need to. Because all of three seconds later, two strong hands were placed back onto his waist, his ex boyfriend’s huge cock pushing inside of his body. Mickey’s knuckles whitened at the slight pain; they had been way to eager to go get the lube and the hot water surrounding their bodies was - while amazing - anything but a good substitute, rather the other way around.

 

Mickey somehow craved that sting, though, the feeling of Ian’s cock forcing him open. He had always loved it. He dipped his head, a loud groan falling out from in between his lips right as Ian bottomed out, his hot breath fanning the back of Mickey’s neck as his inner walls worked around him, trying to get used to accepting his cock once again. The jets continued pulsing out around them, making Mickey’s head spin and the tip of his cock ache even a little bit more, begging for attention that neither of the men was currently in the mood to give.

 

“You feel so fucking - “ Ian pulled out again, fingertips digging deep into the pale flesh of Mickey’s hips, both pairs of eyes screwed shut in pleasure and pain. The water was still hot enough that it turned their skin close to a red color, and it stung just enough that it built up the experience even further. “Tight” Ian finished as he rolled his hips, his cock punching back into Mickey, dragging a loud cry out of the bottom’s mouth.  

 

  
Mickey dug his teeth into his bottom lip, eyebrows furrowing, drawing tightly together as Ian repeated the action over and over again, building up a steady and hard pace, making their entire bodies absolutely throb and tingle all the way from their toes up to the very top of their scalps. The water sloshed around with their movements, large amounts spilling out onto the floor as the steamy bathroom filled with their moans and cries of need, sweat covering their bodies.

 

Mickey’s throat felt tight, guts churning in pleasure as he rolled his hips backwards in time to his ex boyfriend’s thrusts, making their movements even a little bit harder. They had known each other for so fucking long that Ian could just tell that Mickey wanted him to speed up; he didn’t have to ask verbally. Ian tightened his hold on his hips, pulling him backwards onto his cock, fucking him as hard and as fast as he possibly could, his head tilted downwards, focused on the perfect way in which the muscles in Mickey’s back were working as they moved together, the jets continuing to pump out into the water around them.

 

The wet sound of their skin slamming together clouded with Ian’s howls and Mickey’s loud cries, and they were in a complete haze of sex and love where nobody else and nothing else mattered; none of the drama between them, not this fucking contract - nothing. They were completely lost in their love and passion with each other, just as they always were somehow meant to be.

 

Cried curses fell out through Mickey’s dirty mouth, and Ian dug his teeth into his bottom lip, hanging onto every single little sound that he was pulling out of him. He kept his left hand curled around Mickey’s waist as he carefully and slowly slid his right hand up over his beautiful, muscular back, all the way up to the black hair. He curled his fingers, tugging at the strands, causing Mickey to curse even louder as Ian continued stabbing into him, his hips moving like a fucking shotgun or some shit at this point.

 

Ian tugged tighter at the black hair, forcing Mickey’s neck back, his own head dipping as he started to feel the physical strain overtake his body; he didn’t slow down though, not for one second. They continued moving together, the entire bathroom steaming up completely; the sound of the jets and the sloshing water nothing compared to how loud they were being, not giving a shit whether somebody would happen to walk by their room and hear them.

 

Ian kept his tight grip on the hair, letting go of Mickey’s hip in favor of letting his flat palm fall down onto his left ass cheek with a high pitched sound, his ex boyfriend’s body twitching in surprise, though his curses growing even louder as he started rolling backwards with even more force, craving Ian to fuck him to hard they would both pass out at the end of the night; it was what they both wanted, craved. What they fucking needed.

 

“Fuck, fuck. Wait” Ian spoke, suddenly slowing down. “I need to kiss you” Before Mickey knew what the fuck was happening, he was flipped around, shoulder blades against the edge of the tub, legs wrapped around the taller man’s torso as Ian eased inside of him again, quickly returning to pounding his ex boyfriend’s ass with as much power and speed as he could possibly muster; keeping it up all the while somehow managing to bend down a little bit, crashing their lips together.

 

Mickey immediately hummed into the kiss, the makeout session quickly growing just as heated as their fucking, their tongues forcefully dominating each other’s mouths, teeth biting at lips, saliva blending together in a complete mess and being spread out all the way from their chins up to their noses. Both of Mickey’s hands were placed onto the back of Ian’s neck, tugging at the soaked red strands as hard as he could, knowing that his ex boyfriend fucking loved the small act; he was rewarded by Ian attempting to speed up even a little bit more, stabbing inside of him with even more force.

 

Suddenly Mickey’s teeth were around Ian’s bottom lip, not biting teasingly or sexily, but an actual bite that made Ian immediately able to taste his own blood, a slight pain spreading in his face. He knew that this was a sign that he had managed to hit Mickey’s prostate better than ever before, so he made sure to keep stabbing at that exact point inside of his ex boyfriend, fucking him completely into pieces, Mickey’s body just about being thrown against the edge with the force of his movements.

 

Mickey’s warm tongue gently slid along the inner part of Ian’s lips, silently apologizing for the bite that he had had no control over. Ian did nothing but deepen the kiss, assuring him that it was alright as they both stumbled closer and closer towards the edge, nails scratching, teeth biting, hands tightly grabbing at flesh so hard that both men would surely need good makeup artists tomorrow unless they wanted questions about abuse. Their loud cries and howls filled up the room, Ian swallowing Mickey’s grunted chant of ‘ _Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes_ ’, their tongues deep into each other’s mouths as more and more of the water spilled over the edge, filling the floor.

 

“Fuuuck” Ian groaned loudly, the word seeming as if it was being dragged out forever as Mickey swallowed it, both of them reaching their highs at the same exact time, hands tightening on each other’s bodies, screams and cries filling the bathroom louder than ever before as Ian’s body froze, staying buried inside of Mickey’s ass as he let go, heaps and heaps of come pouring into his ex boyfriend. The kiss stopped moving, but their lips and tongues stayed tightly pressed together, Mickey’s body twitching and throbbing, his cock pumping out his load into the already dirty water.

 

Their visions whitened for a second, stars appearing right before it all subsided, both men collapsing in a pile of wet and sweaty limbs, their hearts banging quickly against their ribcages, throats dried out from all of the screaming. Their eyes were slipped shut, and Mickey sighed as he easily wrapped his arms around his exboyfriend’s exhausted frame, his breath fanning his collarbone as they did their best to make their bodies catch up with them.

 

Neither of them said anything; instead they just stayed in the water for surely the better part of ten minutes, just holding each other, the jets still pumping out of the edges of the tub. Neither of them wanted to think about what this meant, that they were fucking again. They didn’t want to think about some fucking contract or what tomorrow would or wouldn’t bring. They just needed to capture this night, be together without really thinking all too much about anything.

 

Finally, Ian forced himself to pull out of Mickey’s body, both of them wincing at the now unfamiliar feeling, a loud groan escaping the taller man’s lips as he lifted himself off of his ex boyfriend; Mickey wouldn’t have that, though. Instead he placed both of his hands back onto the back of his neck, tugging him down for another deep, needy kiss, pushing his tongue deep into his mouth, making it clear what his wanted by lifting his tired legs up, wrapping them around Ian’s body.

 

Ian hummed, melting into Mickey’s touches, his entire body relaxing again as they explored each other’s mouths, this kiss ever so slightly softer and more loving than the one a few minutes ago.

 

“You really want to go again?” Ian asked into Mickey’s mouth, all the while not breaking the kiss. He was completely exhausted, his heart still somewhat hammering against his chest, throat dry in restraint, his muscles screaming in agony from the intense fucking session they had just finished. This aside, though, if Mickey wanted to go once more, he couldn’t say no to that, and he knew that his cock wouldn’t either.

 

Mickey hummed in response, fingers curling into the sweat soaked, red strands of hair at the back of his ex boyfriend’s neck, attempting to deepen the kiss even a little bit further.

 

“Perfect fucking man” Mickey’s words were muffled by Ian’s tongue crowding his mouth. “Never fucking enough. Need you”

 

“My beautiful baby” Ian couldn’t help but sigh into his mouth, deepening the kiss even a little bit further, craving being able to taste Mickey to the fullest, wanting and craving every single piece of him. “Bed, though. Come here” He spoke into his ex boyfriend’s mouth then, wrapping his arms tightly around his waist, carefully standing up and lifting Mickey with him, the pale legs winding around his torso, their lips staying pressed together, the kiss never once breaking or even slowing down.

 

Really it was a complete miracle, but somehow in between Ian’s strength and the way in which the shorter man was clinging to him like a fucking koala or some shit, they managed to make it out of the tub and bathroom and into the bedroom without falling even once. They continued nipping at each other’s lips as they left the heat of the bathroom behind them, finding it a little bit easier to breathe in the bedroom, the chillier air making goosebumps appear on their naked bodies, Ian carefully placing his ex boyfriend down onto the made bed, climbing on top of him.

 

Mickey’s hands stayed on the back of his neck, his legs relaxing and falling to the mattress as he pushed his tongue even a little bit deeper into his mouth, craving to make the kiss even more passionate and wet than it already was, his entire body thrumming in high gear, craving to have Ian inside of him again. Both of their cocks were already back to being hard; surely something that wouldn’t have been possible, had either of them been with somebody else. But they weren’t with anybody else, they were with each other. Broken up or not. And they both knew that they needed each other more now than ever before.

 

“Hold on” Ian mumbled, voice muffled by Mickey’s tongue right before he pulled away, breaking the kiss and getting off of the bed. Mickey barely had any time to whine about the loss of contact before the taller man came back, a tube of lube in his hand. Mickey didn’t want to dwell on why he had it, right now he was just fucking thankful that he did because he wasn’t sure that he would be able to take another round completely raw.

 

Ian wasted to time squeezing a little bit out into his palm, wrapping a strong and firm hand around himself, giving his cock a few good tugs before he let go, throwing the tube to the side and inching even a little bit closer to Mickey. Their eyes were connected, filled with nothing but need and intensity as Ian stayed up on his knees, grabbing his ex boyfriend’s legs, safely wrapping them around his waist.

 

Mickey hooked his ankles together, Ian tightly curling his fingers around his hips, lifting his lower body somewhat upwards, giving him the perfect angle to sink back into the beautiful man in front of him. The eye contact immediately broke, as it was impossible for Mickey to keep his eyes open; there was barely any stinging this time, just pleasure all around and it made his heart throb all over again, happiness coursing throughout his veins as Ian quite easily slipped back into a medium pace, rolling his cock into his ex boyfriend over and over again.

 

Mickey’s dark eyebrows knitted together, his teeth capturing his bottom lip, his tired body tingling at how fucking amazing Ian felt inside of him, his hands tightly squeezing his hips as he picked up the pace ever so slightly, a slight ‘thud thud thud’ filling the room as their skin slammed together, clouding together with Ian’s low groans and Mickey’s moans as his body was being shook back and forth with Ian’s movements, his hands capturing the covers next to him, clenching the fabric inside of his curling fists as his head became a little bit fuzzy again, his stomach turning in the best possible way, Ian picking up even a little bit more pace.

 

“You look so fucking hot” Ian was unable to keep his thought a thought as he looked down at the beautiful man spread out in front of him, thin eyelids covering the deep, blue eyes, his body somehow obeying each and every one of Ian’s movements and loving them all. Mickey groaned in appreciation of the words, feeling his balls start to tighten again, warning him that his orgasm was starting to creep up to him.

 

Ian’s muscles were aching, but he continued on anyway, completely unable to stop. He had been craving this for so fucking long - craving having Mickey again, and now he finally did, in some sort of way at least. Mickey’s knuckles tightened around the soft fabric of the covers, louder moans of ecstasy starting to fall out from in between his lips, blended together with the occasional ‘ _Yes_ ’ or ‘ _Ian_ ’ It all coaxed Ian on even a little bit further, stabbing into his ex boyfriend a little bit faster, a little bit harder, putting his everything into those hast half a dozen thrusts as he let go of Mickey’s right hip, wrapping a strong and sure hand around his cock. He didn’t have to give him more than one or two tugs before he was there, his body twitching, his load shooting out of his cock up onto his own chest, a few drops ending up on Ian’s hand.

 

Mickey continued shaking through his high, stars appearing in front of his eyes right as Ian was there was well, staying buried deep inside of his ex boyfriend as he shot his second load of the night, filling his tight, perfect hole up with the while liquid.

 

When they were both finally through, they were the definition of exhausted, Ian collapsing on top of Mickey, just barely remembering to pull out before he buried his face deep in his ex boyfriend’s neck, breathing in the perfect scent of home, his eyes slipping closed.

 

Mickey swallowed, closing his arms around the taller man’s body, holding him tightly, if only for tonight. They stayed like that, their breathing slowly evening out, regaining the feeling in their fucked out bodies, head starting to ache ever so slightly with dehydration. Ian swallowed, pressing a soft kiss to Mickey’s collarbone before he lifted his head, looking down into the deep, beautiful blue eyes that he held to dearly.

 

“Why are we broken up?” Mickey swallowed once again, his throat tightening as he did his best to come up with an answer. In the beginning he had had so many. The cheating, the lying, the fighting - none of which had ever been one-sided. Ian had treated Mickey like shit, and Mickey had treated Ian like shit. But lately, the past few days… what if he was just fighting this? It was quite obvious that Ian wanted to get back together, so was it possible that Mickey was fighting their love because they were ‘supposed to be broken up’?

 

Were Mickey to sit down and think about it, he would surely be able to come up with a billion and one reasons as to why they had broken up, but right now, tonight;

 

“Fuck if I know, babe” He sighed, reaching his right hand up to brush a few of the sweat soaked red strands back behind Ian’s ear, attempting to swallow down the lump in his throat as the green eyes searched his own. For a second, the room was covered in a thick blanket of nothing but silence.

 

“Then why, huh?” Ian asked, voice sounding thick. Sad. “Why can’t we just… be together and if it goes to hell later on Mickey, we’ll deal with it. I don’t…” He trailed off with a sigh, pressing their foreheads together, his breath fanning Mickey’s parted lips. “I don’t want to give the happy moments up just because we might have a bad one at some point, and I don’t… Baby, I don’t want to be without you. I don’t. You’re the one, you know that”

 

Mickey swallowed, a single tear escaping his right eye, Ian softly wiping it away using the pad of his thumb as he waited for an answer.

 

“Yeah” The older man finally sighed, voice thick with emotional tears as he looked up into the deep, beautiful green eyes.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Yeah” Mickey confirmed. “Yeah, let’s be us again”

 

 

***

 

 

What pushed Mickey out of his sleep the next morning was the sun tearing in through the window, falling right over his face, making a low groan sound in the very base of his throat. The dark eyebrows knitted together in annoyance, eyes staying shut as he woke up a little bit more with each second, growing more and more aware of his surroundings. One of the first things he became aware of was the heavy weight on top of his chest, reminding him of what had happened last night.

 

Ian’s face was deeply buried in his neck, steady and slow breaths warming his skin. All of their limbs were wrapped around each other, their entangled bodies far under the covers that were keeping them together and warm. With how tightly Ian was clinging to his boyfriend, Mickey doubted that anybody would ever be able to spot where his body ended and Mickey’s begun - and he wasn’t much better himself with how he had his arms wound around the taller man’s body, pressing him as close as they could possibly come.

 

It felt good - more than good. It felt a little bit strange, though. To be back with Ian after fighting this for so many weeks.

 

A soft sigh escaped Mickey’s lips as he slowly let his eyes slid open, suffering through the sun pouring straight into his eyes as he tilted his neck slightly downwards, pressing a soft kiss to the top of Ian’s head even though he was still seemingly fast asleep. Mickey knew that despite the fact that Ian only had one show tonight, they both had other things to do before then, so it was best for him to push himself out of bed before his boyfriend woke up - they couldn’t be in bed together, it would make them hours upon hours late.

 

He gently pushed his boyfriend’s unconscious body off of his own, making sure to be careful enough that he wouldn’t end up waking him up instead - Ian could be quite nasty when he wasn’t allowed to wake up on his own. It took a few seconds, but finally Mickey managed to slide himself out from underneath Ian, the younger man staying asleep, a soft sigh escaping his nose as he let go of his boyfriend, sleepily pulling the pillow closer to him instead, burying his face in the soft material.

 

Mickey swallowed, standing there for a second or two, just watching. Taking in the man that he had once taken for granted. Even in his sleep, Ian was the most beautiful human being that Mickey had ever laid eyes on; even if it wasn’t really his thing to express those thoughts verbally all the time in the same manner that it was his boyfriend’s, he really hoped that he knew that.

 

A small sigh escaped his lips, and he suddenly grew very aware of the disgusting taste in his mouth as he slid his tongue over his own teeth, feeling the roughness. Mickey reached down for his bag, getting the toothbrush and toothpaste out before he turned around, heading into the bathroom, making sure to walk carefully as the floor was still filled with water from last night, the filled hottub abandoned. The bright lights were still turned on since they had been in such a haste to get to the bedroom.

 

Mickey swallowed, turning the tap on and running the toothbrush under the water before squeezing some of the toothpaste out into the bristles. He let his mind wander away for a bit as he cleaned his teeth, the scratching sound waking him up even a little bit more.

 

The truth was that he still wasn’t quite sure whether getting back together with Ian was the right choice - it was the one that would make him the happiest, of course. The choice that would make them both the happiest. Mickey’s only concern was for how long that would last exactly. A month? A year? Another five years? Either way, chances were that at some point they would end up back in the same exact place, and Mickey wasn’t sure whether he would be able to handle going through something like this again.

 

Then again, of course there was also the chance that they never would, in fact go back to square one. Maybe this whole breakup thing had taught them a lesson - taught them that they could lose each other at any moment. Maybe they would last and maybe they wouldn’t, but for now Mickey was just so fucking exhausted of fighting this, exhausted of fighting the love, the attraction and exhausted of being around Ian without having him. It felt good to be back.

 

“Hey” Mickey’s gaze had been focused down into the squeaky clean white sink, so he didn’t notice Ian walking in until the husky morning voice poured into his ear, two strong arms being wrapped around his middle as a soft kiss was pressed against the skin behind his ear. Mickey hummed, leaning backwards into the embrace as he looked up, their eyes connecting through the mirror. “I can’t believe I finally have you back, baby” Ian spoke, the eye contact breaking as he turned his head a little bit more to the side, pressing his nose and mouth into Mickey’s temple, breathing deeply. “You smell like home” At the words, the older man spit the toothpaste out and relaxed even a little bit more, letting himself enjoy the warm feeling of having his boyfriend hold him once again; while he was still on the fence on whether this whole getting back together thing was the right thing for them in the long-run, he knew that it was in fact the right thing for them now. And as for right now, that had to be enough.

 

Mickey swallowed, turning around in Ian’s arms, looking up into the green eyes. There was only one thing that he could possibly see in the beautiful orbs - home. Just like Ian had just stated. And love. Ian sighed softly, bringing his hand up to the side of Mickey’s face, his thumb resting on his bottom lip as they continued to explore each other’s eyes. Ian’s tongue darted out to swipe across his bottom lip, heart practically aching with the bursting, undying love that he held for this man.

 

“I love you so much” Mickey tilted his head slightly to the side, a soft smile appearing on his lips. It felt so fucking good to hear the words again, knowing that they came from his boyfriend. Not his ex boyfriend, or his soon to be ex boyfriend as he knew they had in the weeks before their split. They were boyfriends again; together and happy.

 

“You too, Gallagher. Always” Ian’s smile grew a little bit more, right before he dipped his head, capturing Mickey’s lips in between his own in a soft, slightly open mouthed good morning kiss. Mickey leaned into it, his arms wrapped around his boyfriend’s waist as he revelled in the feeling of finally being able to kiss him again, not having to think and not having to hold anything back.

 

Though a few seconds into the act, Mickey was the one to break it, bringing a flat palm to Ian’s chest, pushing him away just enough that their lips slipped apart.

 

“You can fuck me tonight, Gallagher. We’re gonna be late if we don’t get going. Limo’s gone here soon” Ian hummed in disappointment, eyebrows knitting along with a pout appearing on his lips as his eyes stayed on Mickey’s lips, obviously asking for more kisses. Mickey was weak enough to push himself back up onto his toes, pressing one more to his favorite pair of lips. Then he forced himself to untangle their limbs and walk out of the bathroom, heart fluttering at the mere thought that they were finally back together.

 

  
“Is there any way to go around? We’re gonna be late” Ian spoke, leaning forwards a little bit to make sure that their driver would hear his words clearly. The sound of traffic was a constant around them, and the limousine they were sitting in was completely frozen, unable to move backwards or forwards or left or right, much like all of the other cars littered around them.

 

“I’m afraid not, I am so sorry Mr. Gallagher. I’ll get you there as soon as I can” Mickey sighed at the statement, tiredly sinking back against the black leather seats, letting his gaze fall out of the tinted car window; not that there was anything to see except for a large sea of cars and motorcycles, all waiting for the traffic to clear up. His head for once seemed clear; it felt as if every single minute of every single day in the past couple of months, he had been confused and dazed. About Ian - and frankly about most other things as well. But now that he had Ian, he felt comfortable. Like he was home again, and he knew how to act, what to say, how to feel and what to do. It felt good. It felt nice to be back.

 

After a minute or so, Mickey turned his head back to his right, finding his boyfriend’s eyes already stuck on him; after so many years together, he could directly identify the kind of glitter in the green color. Ian’s lips were pulled into a small and teasing smirk, his tongue darting out to swipe across the bottom one, his left hand inching closer to Mickey’s thigh. Mickey swallowed, breath getting caught in his throat, their eye contact never once breaking as Ian spoke.

 

“Could you put up the partition, please?” Mickey’s mouth became a little bit dry as he felt Ian’s hand wander up his thigh, inching closer towards his quickly swelling cock. The few seconds that they had to wait before the partition was completely up in between them and the driver was nothing short of torture. It wasn’t too strange, Mickey would suppose; that they would be horny enough to fuck in a limo in broad day light. Now when they finally had each other again after fighting their love for so long.

 

As soon as the black divider was up, Mickey snapped his seatbelt off, Ian doing the same before reaching for his boyfriend, placing his hands securely around his hips, steadying him as he moved his body to straddle Ian’s lap. It went kind of clumsily, because this wasn’t one of the larger limos that they had ever been in, but it ended up working out, and Mickey placed his hands onto the sides of Ian’s neck, wasting no time going in for a kiss, tongue first. Large, deep breaths escaped them both as they kissed, tongues pushed deep into each other’s mouths, eyes screwed shut, lips nipping at each other’s, hands desperately tugging on each other’s clothes as they knew that they couldn’t waste any time if they were really going to do this.

 

Ian’s left hand was curled around the back of Mickey’s neck, pressing him against himself, craving an even deeper kiss, though that was practically impossible at this point. His right one had gotten his boyfriend’s jeans undone quite quickly, and now he was pushing them down past his ass, making sure to get the boxers as well. Mickey hummed roughly when he felt Ian’s warm hand knead the flesh of his ass, and he pushed back into the touch, his own hand leaving the taller man’s neck to undo his jeans as well.

 

“Up” Ian breathed roughly against his tongue, and Mickey did as he was told, their lips just barely slipping apart as he did his best to lift his body off of his lap, giving Ian the opportunity to push his own jeans down his knees, leaving no clothes currently in the way for them to do what they were craving. Their lips crashed back against each other’s when Mickey sank back down onto Ian’s naked lap, their hands back on each other, cocks rubbing ever so slightly as they continued their heated makeout session.

 

Mickey’s hands were rested on the sides of Ian's neck again, his fingertips sliding into the red stands of hair as he felt Ian press on his lower back, pushing him even closer, the heads of their cocks trade in between them, making a soft moan fall out of Mickey’s mouth and into Ian’s. The shorter man rolled his hips, craving even more friction, wanting even more.

 

“Fuck. Ian” Ian hummed as the wonderful words escaped his boyfriend’s lips, and he deepened the kiss even further, tugging at his bottom lip, continuing to knead his perfect ass in his hands, reveling in how fucking soft yet firm in felt against his palms.

 

Mickey finally forced himself to break the kiss, taking one of his hands off of Ian’s neck and cupping it in front of his face, spitting into his own palm. It was a shitty fucking substitute for lube, and it surely wouldn’t help all that much, but neither of them had thought to bring the tube, and besides, after last night Mickey was still already more than stretched, so he would be able to take it like this for once. Their faces rested close enough that their breathing fanned each other’s lips as Mickey brought his hand down in between them, wrapping it firmly around Ian’s cock and giving him a few good, slow strokes, reveling in the soft whines the touch was pulling out of his boyfriend.

 

Mickey continued jerking him off for a little bit longer than what was necessary, swiping his thumb over the tip to tease him a little bit more. Then finally he let go, cupping both of his hands around the sides of Ian’s neck, Ian’s left hand wrapped around Mickey’s waist as he used the other one to grab a hold of himself, placing the head of his cock against his boyfriend’s entrance. Then they were both pushing to connect, two pairs of eyes falling closed, parted mouths resting against each other as Ian’s cock went deeper and deeper inside of his boyfriend, stretching him out the very last bit.

 

“Fuck” Mickey sighed at the pinching pain of the absent lube, but he soon got used to it as he was seated perfectly onto Ian’s lap, his fingertips digging into the flesh on the back of his boyfriend’s neck as they pulsed together, his ass clenching and unclenching around the cock buried deep inside of his ass.

 

“Fucking perfect” Ian hummed, capturing Mickey’s lips in a deep and wet kiss right as he cupped both of his hands around his hip bones, giving him some help to lift himself up before sinking back down, the pleasure quickly starting to course throughout their veins. Mickey’s eyebrows were furrowed as he did his best to keep the kiss going, their tongues expertly exploring each other’s mouths as he rocked himself down onto Ian’s cock over and over again, quite quickly building up a good pace, tugging at the red strands of hair he could get a hold of.

 

Ian was completely lost in a daze of love and pleasure, mesmerized by the perfect way in which Mickey’s ass was swallowing him up, taking him deep and connecting them in the way that they were always meant to be connected. Mickey managed to built up a little bit more pace, lifting himself up and down, bringing them both ever so slightly closer towards the edge. Ian tugged at Mickey’s bottom lip, the kiss breaking for a second or so before he went back in even deeper, pushing his tongue far into his mouth as he let go of his hips and instead placed his hands flat against his lower back, the very tips of his fingers digging into the perfect flesh of his ass as he gave him some help, pushing him down onto his cock.

 

“Just like that, baby. Fuck” Ian’s hot breath hit Mickey’s tongue, the kiss deepening even further as they let themselves get completely lost in each other, lost in the way that they made the other feel and lost in the happiness and the pleasure spreading throughout their bodies with every single movement. “Fuck” Ian cursed again, the sound this time more of a hiccup than a sigh; Mickey knew by now that that meant that he was growing closer.

 

Mickey did his best to speed up a little bit, feeling Ian’s hands slide even further down, grabbing his ass in a firm grip, making sure that he would have some evidence of this encounter for at least the next day or so. The ever so slight ‘thud thud thud’ of their fucking session blended together with their swallowed moans and muffled groans as they both stumbled closer and closer towards the edge.

 

Ian’s left hand stayed on his boyfriend’s ass as he brought his right one down in between the two of them, wrapping it securely around Mickey’s cock, starting to jerk him off in time to their movements, giving him some help to get there, both of their stomachs starting to tighten in the best possible way, their moans growing a little bit louder, the kiss deepening.

 

Within seconds they were there; coming with throbs, shakes, jerks and muffled _‘I love you’_ s.

 

  
***

 

  
It took a lot longer than it should have, but finally the traffic cleared up and Ian and Mickey got to the arena where Ian was due to get ready for the show tonight. Mickey thought that it felt kind of strange - to be able to just grab Ian’s hand and not have to worry about whether it was a step too far or not, because they were together so it didn’t matter. He could do whatever the fuck he wanted. A good, strange, though. Of course. Being back with Ian felt like nothing short of home.

 

Ian’s fingers easily slipped in between his own as they stepped out of the limousine, quite a few fans meeting them on the street; how they had managed to find out that Ian and Mickey were going to be there this early, neither of them knew, but a lot of fans were quite the detectives, so by now they had both come to terms with the fact that they wouldn’t get anywhere by questioning it. Thirty, maybe forty people were there, which weren’t a lot compared to come of the crowds they had to walk through sometimes, but it was still enough that a few security guards followed them, making sure that everything went smoothly. Mickey felt a lot calmer than usual, the weight of Ian’s hand in his own feeling safe and comforting other than scary and uncertain.

 

The fans cried and screamed, and Mickey was able to decipher one or two words here and there as they stopped and took some pictures with the people, painting happy smiles onto their faces that for once weren’t all that fake.

 

“You two are so cute together!” One girl - maybe fifteen years old - screamed, and Ian looked her way, flashing her his biggest possible smile - the one that was genuine but not anywhere near as genuine as the one Mickey got. He slipped his hand out of his boyfriend’s, instead wrapping his arm around his waist and pulling him closer to his side, placing a sweet kiss against his temple, to which Mickey was absolutely certain that he could hear his heart start to beat even a little bit faster. “Can I have some advice?!” Another girl asked loudly, this one seemingly a little bit older.

 

Mickey and Ian looked to each other; it wasn’t an unusual thing for their fans to ask them personal things - ask for advice and such, it was in fact something that both ben encouraged. Ian had never wanted to be one of those usual celebrities who just accepted praise and never took part in the lives of the people who helped get him where he was today. Their biggest fans knew this, of course, Mickey and Ian both tweeted about it on a regular basis. Wrote about how they were more than willing to help their fans out if they needed support or help, instead of that whole thing just going one way.

 

“Yeah, come here” Mickey finally was the one who answered, Ian’s arm never unwrapping from around his waist as they walked closer to the girl, soft and kind smiles stretched out across their faces as they hugged her hello, feeling her hands shake a little bit on their backs.

 

“Well, I um - oh my god - I’m sorry” Ian just grinned at her, letting her take her time to shake through her starstruck stage as the security held some of the other people back, knowing how important it was for Ian and Mickey to be able to have an actual conversation with one of their fans whenever they got the chance to. “Your relationship is so adorable, and I was just wondering something… I’m having some trouble with this girl. We were together for a while, but then we broke up. I don’t know if I should get back or not. I mean, it would feel good, you know? We were together for a long time, and it would feel like home, but I don’t know if it would hold me back or not” The girl rambled, struggling to get through her story, immediately stopping when she was finished, biting at her bottom lip as she waited for the men to answer.

 

Mickey was silent for quite a few beats, thinking her words over and he could tell that Ian was doing the same. He wished that he knew exactly what to say, and how to help this girl. It didn’t matter if it was relationship issues or something a little bit more serious - either way he really wanted to help his fans in any way that he could. Considering the fact that he really hadn’t had anybody growing up, if he could make one person feel better then that was worth a lot - even if he didn’t advertise his opinion on all of that.

 

“I’d say, you know…” Mickey begun while Ian was still quiet. “You seem like a good person, and there was probably a reason why you split in the first place, right?” The girl nodded, chewing on the inside of her cheek as she listened. “You can’t really go back to the past because it’s familiar…” In the very middle of Mickey talking, he actually realized what he was talking about. Who he was talking about. Because suddenly Ian’s hand felt incredibly heavy on his waist.

 

Ian noticed it as well; his thumb started moving in smooth circles over the clothed skin, right before he let his arm drop to his side, Mickey swallowing roughly.

 

“Sure… it can be tempting…” Mickey continued, voice suddenly very gravely and rough. Sad. He could feel his stomach turning, his own personal devil laughing somewhere in the distance at how foolish he had been. When he heard Ian’s voice finish his own sentence, he thought that maybe he was deceased once and for all;

 

“It’s a mistake”

 

  
***

 

  
The rest of the day wasn’t all that different from the previous ones. Ian was shuffled around, singing, dancing, trying on new clothes. Mickey was sitting on one of the couches in the back, doing his best to read a new script that he had been sent. Neither of them could focus on what they were supposed to, though. Of course they couldn’t. Their hearts were throbbing in their chest, and it wasn’t in the good way. The organ physically hurt inside of them, yearning for what they couldn’t have anymore. What wasn’t healthy for them to want to have anymore.

 

They hadn't spoken, really. Not about their encounter with the fan, and not about anything else. This aside, though, they both knew. They were over. Once and for all, they were truly over, they had to be. Love or not, they couldn’t be together anymore; in the end it would bring them nothing but pain, suffering and heartbreak and neither of them was willing to deal with that.

 

When Mickey had started to answer the girl’s question, he hadn’t had one single inch of his brain focusing on his and Ian’s relationship, but he knew that he had answered himself somehow at the same time as he had answered her. Mickey loved Ian, and Ian loved Mickey - more than anything, and there was no denying that. But if they wanted to move forwards, if they wanted to develop as individuals, then they couldn’t be a couple. Because as a couple they just knew each other way too well. Their relationship was comfortable, nice and yeah, it was loving but it wasn’t enough. In this particular case - as rom-commy as it sounded - love just wasn’t enough.

 

  
***

 

  
“So that’s it, huh?” Mickey asked with a thick voice as they entered the bus later that night, the darkness outside hugging the vehicle. Ian was a few feet ahead of him when he turned around with a sigh, placing his hands behind himself on the window-seat, leaning back against it. Suddenly, Mickey was taken back.

 

 

***

 

  
_“This is it” Mickey’s voice was nothing but a breath, the heavy words falling out from in between his lips as he struggled not to let the pain push him to the floor. Blue eyes were on green as they both felt it. That pain, that finality. No, this wasn’t a bump in the road, this wasn’t just a fight. Yes, this was in fact - it._

 

_A sound between a shaky sigh and hiccup escaped his lips as his eyes drifted down to the few feet of black hardwood floors separating him from the other man._

 

_Ian’s teeth dug into his tongue as he did his best to blink away most of the tears. His eyes were focused on the top of Mickey’s head for a second before he dipped his, his gaze drifting down onto the floor as well. He swallowed, trying desperately to get rid of the huge lump in his throat, all the while knowing that it would do no good. In this moment, nothing would be able to take the pain away._

 

_His hands were behind him, curling around the white marble of the kitchen counter, his grip so tight that the color of his knuckles were starting to match._

 

_For a long time, they had both known that this day was starting to approach the horizon. They also knew that there was really nothing that they could possibly do about it. This needed to happen. The two of them couldn’t go on, racing each other, hurting each other, each of them always running off and doing their own thing without telling the other._

 

_Despite the consuming love that they carried around in their relationship, it wasn’t a good one. Not anymore._

 

_Five years was a long fucking time, and for three - maybe even four - of them, things had, in fact, been good. Healthy. Ian and Mickey had both been so fucking in love with each other, starry eyes, bursting hearts, all of it._

 

_Fuck knows how they lost it, but they did._

 

 

***

 

  
By the tears pooling in the beautiful green eyes across the little room, Mickey could tell that Ian was remembering the same thing, his adams-apple bopping up and down a few times. Mickey’s teeth dug far into his own bottom lip as he did his best to keep from crying himself. It was a lot cause, of course. This time it hurt tens of millions of time more than it had the first time. Which was why they shouldn't have been stupid enough to go back here in the first place, but somehow they had let themselves. and here they were - suffering the consequences.

 

“Mickey, we…” Ian tried, voice sad. Cracking as he rolled his eyes in an attempt to keep the tears at bay, his tongue poking into his cheek. Mickey was standing against the little kitchen counter, clutching the wood into his fists, knuckles turning white as he dipped his head, gaze focusing on his shoes although he couldn’t see all that much through the dark ‘apartment’. “We can’t keep doing this. It’s…” His voice cracked for a second, and Mickey wasn’t brave enough to look up and meet the beautiful pair of eyes that he still to this day was so utterly and desperately in love with. He couldn’t; he knew that he would end up cracking, he knew that he would end up kissing him and beg on his knees for them to try to fix this. Fix everything, fill in all of the cracks that had appeared over the years. “It’s holding you back - it’s holding me back”

 

Mickey swallowed, clenching his fists even a little bit tighter around the counter, wishing that he was anywhere but here. Wishing that they were anywhere but here, and wishing desperately that they could somehow find a way to move on with each other. But they couldn’t, it wasn’t healthy and it wasn’t a good idea. They both knew that.

 

“We can’t be in this together” Mickey agreed, voice thicker and darker than he could remember ever really hearing it before. He swallowed, lifting his head; Ian was looking a little bit to his right, but when he noticed the movement of his ex boyfriend’s head, their eyes locked. Three tears steadily trailed down Ian’s cheek, and Mickey cracked, a few droplets rolling down his own cheeks as they looked. Just stared into each other’s eyes, somehow both savoring and suffering through the moment. Knowing that this time - well, this time this was truly it. Not like last time, this felt somehow even more real. More raw and even more painful. Maybe it was like a scab; in the beginning it doesn’t hurt all that bad when you cut yourself but the more you pick at it, the worse it gets. The more it stings and the more you realize that you really should have left it alone to begin with.

 

“We um…” Ian swallowed, eyes still locked on the blue pair. “We can’t do this…” He trailed off for a second, gesturing weakly around the bus. “This tour thing either. We have to find a way to tear the contract up, it’ll be expensive but…” Mickey nodded in agreement as his ex boyfriend trailed off once again.

 

Signing this contract - fuck, agreeing to go to the country music awards, even - had been their biggest mistake. It had all been what had kept them both from at least trying to move on, it was what had held them back from the rest of their lives and confused the fuck out of them. Mickey knew that it wasn’t as easy as just tearing up a piece of paper, and that they would both lose quite an amount of their fortunes, but whatever it took to get them out of this, they would do. Nothing was worth their happiness and mental health.

 

Ian swallowed, the act somehow urging Mickey to do the same, attempting to get rid of the thickness in his throat.

 

“We’ll deal with everything tomorrow, man. It’s late.” Ian nodded, agreeing with his ex boyfriend as he brought a hand up to his own face, rubbing some of the tears away, hoping that the pain would stop. At least someday.

 

  
***

 

  
It took a lot of fighting and a lot of explaining - and a lot of crying to themselves on both men’s parts - but finally Mickey could go home to New York. He guessed that Tony had something to do with that fact; he had known both Ian and Mickey for a long time, so he could probably tell how much this was all truly killing them. Tony was a good guy, and even if he didn’t always flaunt how much he loved and cared for both of the younger men, he was almost like a father to them, and Mickey appreciated that fact now more than ever before.

 

The two days that Mickey had to remain on tour after the night they had decided to end all of this, they didn’t talk. They weren’t fighting, they weren’t angry with each other; he and Ian, they just… didn’t talk. They didn’t really have anything to say to one another anymore.

 

The bus was parked on a lot, and Mickey’s car was due to come by and pick him up in a few minutes, so he was packing the very last of his things back down into his suitcase. He was alone in the ‘apartment’, the suitcase folded up open, laying on the bed. Ian was inside of the building a couple of blocks away, having some wardrobe fitting or something - Mickey hadn’t really been listening. He had just been happy to get a few minutes to himself to pack, and to… well… to say goodbye. To all of the memories, the pain and the hurt.

 

His eyes were slightly wet, and he cleared his throat every now, his mind wandering as he continued to stuff his suitcase full of all of the things that did nothing but remind him of what no longer was. The t shirt that Ian always stole and wore because it smelled like Mickey. The pair of sneakers that Ian had bought for himself a few months after they had met, but had gifted them to Mickey because they were too small. The bottle of shampoo that Mickey had started using on a regular basis because Ian claimed that ‘it makes your hair so soft’. All of it and none of it really had to do with Ian.

 

Mickey was just so fucking sick of it. Sick of having to deal with Ian - not the person, persay, but just having to deal with this kind of love and hurt and pain and heartbreak and not being able to let go. Mickey couldn’t go backwards, they had already established that. And moving forwards was proving to be a fuck of a lot more difficult than he had anticipated, so what exactly was he supposed to do?

 

Cry, it seemed.

 

Crying was a regular state of Mickey Milkovich these days, he realized as he pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes, sinking down on the edge of the little bed, sucking in a breath, teeth sinking into the inside of his bottom lip, a wonderful piercing pain shooting throughout his body. He didn’t know what the fuck to do with all of this, what to say or how to handle any of it. All he could possibly do was cry.

 

  
***

 

  
Mickey sighed deeply as he watched his suitcase and smaller bag being thrown into the trunk of the large car, a few security guards standing by his side; there weren’t really any fans out here, but just in case. With every single second that ticked by, Mickey felt as if he was drifting closer and closer away from Ian and though he hated the feeling, somehow he also felt lighter. His heart was heavy, but his chest was light. Which didn’t really make much sense, but he didn’t know how else to describe it. This was it.

 

“Mr. Milkovich, are you ready to get going?” The driver asked, catching Mickey’s attention, pulling him out of his own head. Mickey swallowed, looking at him as he nodded.

 

“Yeah, just um… Just one thing, alright?” He answered, realizing that he had forgotten his phone in the bedroom of the bus, so he walked back the couple of yards, hoping that he would be able to go in and get it before Ian was due to get back; he wasn’t sure how they would both end up handling another formal goodbye. They probably wouldn’t end up getting through it with their hearts inside of their chests. It was better that this was how they left it now. Alone and silent.

 

Mickey’s combat boots took him further and further along faded asphalt as he forced his chest up and down, willing himself not to break down. The truth was that this was turning out to be a lot heavier than he could ever have imagined. The second that he went over to that car again and got into it, he and Ian were formally over. Forever. Though it would probably take a while before they let the entire world know, that would be the truth. All of the memories, all the kisses, all the hugs and all the sweet, whispered nothings - all of it. All of it would be gone, lost. Forever.

 

Mickey wasn’t sure that they had both been ready for that during their last breakup, but this time? It hurt so much worse - that’s how he knew that they were now. It was time. They had to be.

 

Mickey placed his hand onto the handle of the little door, opening it a little bit. He stopped after just a few inches, though, his body completely freezing solid. Ian was already there, and not only was he there, but he was singing - writing some new music, probably. Mickey’s hand relaxed, his heart sinking into the very pit of his stomach as he hung onto every single word that he probably wasn’t meant to hear just quite yet. This had to be one of the deepest and the most beautiful songs that had ever come out of that beautiful brain of Ian’s.

 

Mickey’s throat was completely snurped shut, tears collecting in his eyes rather quickly. His knees seemed to completely give in as Ian continued singing, still blissfully unaware that his ex boyfriend was outside still, listening in. Mickey could tell just by how deep Ian’s voice was that he, too, had tears pouring down his face. The music, the lyrics, Ian’s voice - all of it - it was so much more raw than anything that Mickey had ever heard before.

 

Ian’s music didn’t really effect Mickey all that much - he loved it, of course. And sometimes he would hang on to the lyrics just to make sure that he truly understood what Ian felt and what he wanted. But nothing had ever really gotten to him in this way, none of Ian’s songs had ever cut quite this deep into his gut before. Made him hurt this badly.

 

Mickey felt as if his entire stomach - his entire being - was being wrenched, turned completely inside out. That familiar puma inside of him, tearing him to shreds, giving him even less mercy than before. Every word was so fucking painful, so fucking perfect and all Mickey could possibly to was feel sick. So fucking sick to his stomach that he was unsure about whether he would make it through this kind of pain alive.

 

Mickey swallowed, cupping a hand over his mouth to block out his cries as he slowly turned around on the little metal staircase, sinking down onto the top step as he dipped his head, more and more warm tears creating streaks in the pale flesh of his cheeks as he continued listening to the muffled words of Ian’s breakup song, unable to stop.

 

Each word hurt both of the men more than the previous.

 

  
***

 

  
The next month or so inched by second by second, Mickey feeling as if he was completely dead on his feet. Like a zombie, or maybe even more unaware of his surroundings. By now his breakup with Ian was public, but neither of them had answered any questions or done any interviews about it. To Mickey it was too heavy to deal with just quite yet, and he guessed that Ian wasn’t feeling all that differently about it all.

 

Mickey read a script once in a while, but he couldn’t focus. And expect for those rare occasions, he didn’t work at all. He didn’t go to events, he didn’t go to scheduled interviews or auditions. Angela had made it more than crystal clear that it was something she hated and that she was getting heat from the people higher up, but Mickey couldn’t care. He had assumed that the more time that passed, the less it would hurt. The more Ian’s beautiful face would fade away to the deepest, darkest parts of his brain. That wasn’t the truth.

 

Instead with every single minute of every single day, he felt his own body grow heavier. He felt the wild animal inside of his chest become angrier and angrier, tearing his insides to little shreds, but at the same time he couldn’t feel anything at all. He forced himself to eat, but the black rings underneath his eyes just became darker and larger with every day. Though Angela did her best to help in any way she could - bring him coffee, talk to him, get him auditions for parts that she knew he would love to go up for - it didn’t help. None of it did. Nothing would ever be able to.

 

For the most part, though, he didn’t cry. Mickey just kept his face natural, suffering through the pain without showing it all too much. Maybe because if he felt those warm tears pouring down his face, it was all become even more real than it already was. More painful - if that was even a possibility at this point.

 

The only thing that Mickey could possibly think of that could make him feel any better was time; but then again, by now he was even starting to doubt the ticking seconds.

 

  
It all came crashing down onto him on a monday afternoon as he was making his way home from an audition. It hadn’t gone all too well - fuck, he hadn’t even tried, really. He had only gone so that Angela would shut her mouth for at least a few days.

 

Mickey’s elbow was leaned into the L at the bottom of his car window, temple rested into his palm as he lazily got the car closer towards his penthouse so that he could lay down for a bit. He had been so fucking tired lately - apparently complete and utter heartbreak did that to you. His eyelids were heavy as his right hand rested, curled around the leather dressing the wheel in front of him. The weather was nice - way too nice to be New York. The small amount of trees he passed were a light green shade, and he was sure that he could hear birds in the distance, were he just to listen for them.

 

Usually this kind of weather would make him happy; not today. And not any of the days that had followed that horrible day a month and four days ago. It didn’t matter that the sun beamed down on his car, and it didn’t matter that people were laughing on each and every street corner - Mickey’s world was dark, black and depressing. It was the truth, no matter how poetic and non-Mickey like it sounded.

 

The music on the radio stopped, some interview starting with a celebrity that Mickey didn’t know who they were. A soft sigh escaped his nose as he moved his left hand to the wheel, taking his right one off so that he could click through the different stations. A few more interviews reached his ears, but he clicked past them as he had no virtual interest. A few more songs that he wasn’t all that into either. He continued clicking forwards until finally, his entire body froze up.

 

_“This will be the last song. About all the shit that went wrong”_

 

Ian. Ian’s voice, Ian’s beautiful lyrics. Of course.

 

Mickey knew that he should force himself to keep switching stations, but it wasn’t an exaggeration to say that he was completely and utterly frozen solid. His index finger was resting on the button, and it wouldn’t move. His gaze was stuck to the road ahead of himself, his lips parted, heart breaking as he hung onto every single little word. It wasn’t a song that he had heard before - not recorded. No, he had only heard it once before. The last time he had ever seen Ian. Outside of that damn bus when he had broken down into a million tiny, sobbing pieces.

 

_“You burned me, I burned you. Yeah, all of it’s true. I’m sick of that same old tune”_

 

Ian’s voice was fucking perfect. The lyrics were perfect, the melody was heartbreaking. He could hear the cracks in his ex boyfriend’s voice, and he just knew that he had had tears pouring down his face as he had recorded the vocals.

 

_“This is the last song I’m ever gonna sing about you. The last time, I write ‘I can’t live without you’”_

As the chorus begun, Mickey realized that it had been stuck in his head for the entire duration of the past heartbreaking month - he just hadn’t been aware of it. The words effected him in the worst possible way, made his heart beat a thousand times faster, both of his hands now clutched around the upper part of the steering wheel, knuckles turning completely white.

 

_“Come on melody, set me free. I have to move on. Yeah, you’re gone. So this is the last song”_

 

It didn’t start with one tear, or two slow ones. No, all of them came at once. Mickey’s fists tightened even further around the steering wheel as the heartbreaking music continued ringing throughout his car. His entire face suffered salty tears, rolling all the way down to his chin and further, wetting his t shirt as his skin flushed red in pain and suffering, his heart banging against his ribcage over and over again, with such force that Mickey was sure that it would end up breaking through the bones at some point. A part of him wanted that; wanted it all to end. The pain and the heartbreak and all of the guilt.

 

Mickey had to pull over to the side of the road - thankfully he was in the outskirts of town, giving him the opportunity to do so without getting disturbed or looked at. His eyes clenched shut, his entire face screwing up in pain, his hands turning white with how much force he was putting around the leather clad wheel.

 

_“This will be the last verse; about all the pain and the hurt”_

 

Mickey captured his bottom-lip in between his teeth in an effort to slow his sobbing down, but it didn’t help all that much. His sobs continued blending together with the music, every single good and bad and horrible and amazing memory of his and Ian’s relationship coming back into his head like a fucking boomerang or some shit. All the feelings, all the laughs, all the kisses. All of the heart wrenching love.

 

_“So this is the last song I’m ever gonna sing about you. The last time, I write ‘I can’t live without you’”_

 

The chorus came back around again and Mickey dug his teeth even further into his skin, the slight tinge of blood spreading inside of his mouth as his eyes stayed shut, his crying showing no signs of slowing down. This was way too painful. The love that he carried around for Ian - the love that he would probably always carry around for Ian - it was too deep. Too dark, too light, too happy and too sad - to intense - for him to be able to even begin to let go. At least not right now. He couldn’t. He wasn’t sure that he wanted to.

 

_“I have to move on, yeah, you’re gone. So this is the last song”_

 

Ian held out the last word, his voice somehow cracking in the most beautiful way as the music became a little bit louder. Mickey could see Ian’s face in front of him, recording this song. Fists clenching by his sides, tears streaming down his face, bare and raw and unadulterated emotion pouring out of him. He meant every single word of the lyrics, more than anything he had ever sang in the past. Somehow Mickey just knew this. His own tears continued streaming down his face, short nails digging into the black leather of the wheel, the black ink over his knuckles standing out in an incredible contrast against the white skin as he just grew more and more upset, more and more heartbroken with every single word pouring out of Ian’s mouth and into the car.

 

_“If you really think this is what I really wanted, then you’re just wrong. But you’re the one telling everyone you were already gone - so here is the last song”_

 

The song slowed down again after the bridge, becoming sad again rather than upset. Ian’s voice started shaking a little bit, cracking in a way that just made the words seem even more beautiful. Even more true and straight from his heart. His voice was dark, thick and husky in a way that Mickey could immediately recognize was him crying. Not just a little bit - a lot.

 

_“I’m ever gonna sing about you. The last time, I write ‘I can’t live without you’. Come on, melody”_

 

The last few words were sang with more power again, somewhat of an angry shake to Ian’s voice as if he was roaring an engine of some sort, pulling himself together again. Mickey’s tears continued pouring down his face, his entire body shaking with the sobs, his teeth continuing to dig deep into his lip, attempting to keep himself somewhat at bay, despite the fact that it clearly wasn’t working. This kind of heartbreak, this kind of pain - it just wasn’t controllable.

 

_“Set me free. I have to move on, yeah, you’re gone. So this is the last song”_

 

Mickey’s sobs finally started calming down, just a little bit. His hands stayed clenched around the steering wheel as his chest heaved heavily up and down, the panther inside of his stomach continuing to tear his insides apart, his heart being wrenched inside out. He forced himself to take a deep breath, his tears continuing to trail steadily down his cheeks right before he forced his eyes open.

 

Mickey’s lips were parted as he mentally forced himself to keep living. Breathe in. Breathe out.

 

_“This is the last song”_

 

 

  
_***_

 

 

  
**One year later**  
**(Epilogue)**

  
Mickey sighed tiredly, though feeling oddly content as he had his gaze focused on the script pulled up on his computer, the laptop rested on his thighs, his feet thrown up onto the coffee table in the livingroom of his penthouse. He had his left hand curled around a bottle of his favorite beer, using his right one to scroll through the pages as he got to know the character he was becoming in a few weeks.

 

The sound of rain smattering against his windows filled his ears, calming him down just a little bit more - not that he needed it. He was actually a pretty calm and happy person these days - somewhat, at least. The wind blowing harshly blended together with the rain, and Mickey felt warm and happy that he had somewhere safe to sit and listen to the sound. Plus, the scene he was currently reading was somewhat sad, so it helped set the mood a little bit, helped him understand.

 

Mickey’s eyebrows knitted together when another sound blended together with the storm. It wasn’t very loud, but enough that he could decipher it as an acoustic guitar. Soon he shook it off, though, deciding that as much as he liked the sound, it was nothing that he needed to think much of. People played on the streets all the time. He went back to focusing on the manuscript for a few seconds, but then the person who was playing started singing.

 

_“It’s the biggest storm in years, they say”_

 

It was a voice Mickey recognized all too well. Just to make sure that he wasn’t mistaken, something compelled Mickey to place his computer and beer slowly onto the coffee table before standing up, making his way over to one of the large windows punched through his livingroom wall. His dark eyebrows were still knitted together in confusion as he reached up, opening the window up, the music immediately growing clearer to his ears as he looked down.

 

Ian continued strumming his guitar out in the rain, looking up at Mickey as beautiful lyrics poured out of his mouth, his entire body completely soaked - in fact, with how much rain was currently coming down, Mickey could only be about ninety eight percent sure that it was in fact Ian standing down there, because the entire world seemed as if it was covered in a daze of grey.

 

There were a lot of stories inside of the building before you got to Mickey’s penthouse, meaning that to him, Ian looked like an ant - maybe that was an exaggeration, but his point stood nonetheless. Ian’s neck was tilted back as he sang to Mickey, some people gathering around him to watch the show, interested to see what the hell was going on.

 

_“I’d like to stay, in a stormy winters day. So I’ll come back to you someday”_

 

Mickey was completely frozen, lips parted, a few raindrops making their way inside of the crack in the window, covering his face. He hadn’t seen Ian in a whole fucking year. They hadn’t talked, and while the first six, seven months of their breakup had been really fucking brutal, he was just fine now. That didn’t mean that his heart didn’t start beating incredibly fast at the mere sight of him. Mickey Milkovich loved Ian Gallagher. That would never change, not for one second.

 

It crossed Mickey’s mind to stay by the window and listen to the rest of the song, but he couldn’t. Instead his mouth was pulled into a grin as he backed up, pulling the window closed before rushing to get one of his hoodies, throwing it on. He ran out the door, taking all of the stairs two by two as fast as he possibly could, excitement and confusion coursing throughout his veins, his heart throwing itself against his ribcage, just about bursting through the cage of bones.

 

He didn’t know what Ian was thinking - he didn’t know what he was thinking himself. But right now, the man he would always be in love with was outside of his apartment in the fucking rain, singing to him. Like a scene out of a fucking movie or some shit. And he just knew that he couldn’t overthink things all too much. Not now.

 

A minute or so later, Mickey burst out of the large entrance door, and Ian was still standing there. Just a few meters away. He wasn’t singing or playing the guitar anymore; the instrument was resting on the pavement next to him, being completely and utterly drenched in the storm, just as the man was. Mickey swallowed thickly as their eyes met. Even though they both fought it, tears started trailing down their cheeks. A whole fucking year without seeing each other and they still had this effect on one another. That heart throbbing, blood boiling love in between them.

 

“Gallagher, what the fuck are you doing?” Mickey couldn’t quite keep his grin at bay, though. The rain quickly glued his black t shirt to his body, his entire body becoming soaked, but he couldn’t find a reason to give a fuck. Not right now. Ian lifted his shoulders up into a prolonged shrug, and Mickey would imagine that he sighed, but he couldn’t quite hear it for the storm sweeping all around them.

 

“I miss you. I love you” A few more tears trailed down Mickey’s cheeks, and for once he guessed that they were happy ones. He swallowed roughly, crossing his arms in front of his chest, parting his lips slightly. “Look, before you say anything…” Ian spoke, voice cracking as he took a step or two closer towards his love, their eyes deep into one another’s. “This year has been alright, Mickey. It’s been fine. I haven’t been crying every single night, but now what I know is that my career, and my life - it doesn’t matter without you. None of it matters without you, Mickey. And when I go a day without seeing your face, a day without talking to you…” Ian trailed off for a second, shrugging a little bit as Mickey’s eyes stayed focused on him. More and more amazed tears falling down his face. “That day is just - no good” Ian finally stated. “I can live without you, alright? I know that now. It’s possible. I just really don’t want to”

 

Mickey dug his teeth into his bottom lip, trying to figure out a good answer. He knew what his heart was saying, of course. He knew what his heart was screaming, more like it. He wanted Ian back. More than anything else in his entire life. There was a reason why they had broken up all those months ago - a good one. But they had grown up a lot since, Mickey could tell. So if they loved each other - and they did - what possible reason did they have for circling around each other?

 

“Which is why…” Ian started speaking again, a few feet away from Mickey. His voice shook just a little bit, and he reached his hand into the back pocket of his jeans, the rain continuing to pour down over the men - and their gathered audience despite the fact that this should have been a private moment. Mickey was silent, his throat immediately snurping shut when Ian brought out the tiny little box, sinking down onto one knee in front of his ex boyfriend, a soft and kind smile covering his lips. A nervous one. “I want you to be my husband. Now and forever” He paused for a beat, looking as if he was gathering up the courage he needed to ask. “Will you marry me?”

 

Ian was a complete mess, soaked by the rain, shaking in anticipation as he waited for Mickey’s answer. The long, dark strands of red hair were glued to his forehead, lips separated in nervousness as he stayed silent, beautiful green eyes staring up into blue. Mickey’s smile had slipped off of his face, replaced by a look of pure shock. Lips parted, eyebrows raised as he looked down at the beautiful ring placed inside of the box. There were so many reasons why he should say no. But at the end of the day, through all of their fights and bumps in the night - Ian was the love of Mickey’s life. So ultimately;

 

“Of course I fucking will”

**Author's Note:**

> Songs used:
> 
> [Circles](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gzBU0wDKFcE)   
>  [Deal Breaker](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m3aK2iBC_2o)   
>  [All I've Got](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G2O8Vt8vboU)   
>  [I Belong](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wLGU4MC5TgE)   
>  [Love](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Nye22imQOMc)   
>  [Dance In The Rain](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rVclYVb7bAg)   
>  [If I Were Sorry](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4emC0VDQGz8)   
>  [Last Song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7_SkWh1JLIk)   
>  [Someday](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ao3oNyHpKiA)
> 
>  
> 
> I hope that you guys liked this at least a little bit? Maybe? Comments and kudos are always incredibly appreciated, and I'm wishing you all an amazing day! <3 <3 <3


End file.
